


#No R-Agrestes

by gigiree



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Marinette is a fashion student, Siblings, This is crack, adrien studies physics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:56:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigiree/pseuds/gigiree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How do you know Felix?"</p><p>"I'm uh...dating his brother."</p><p>"Really? Nice. I heard his brother's a cool dude. Handsome too."</p><p>"Yeah he is. And how do you know Felix?"</p><p>"I'm his brother."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. why you lyin', mmm oh my god. stop fucking lying

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reyxa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyxa/gifts).



She doesn’t know how she gets herself into these intricately woven fuck-ups. Really she doesn’t.

It doesn’t make them any less painful, the embarrassment of it all eating away at what little pride she has left. She can feel it chipping slowly, devolving into a faded strange thing that she would do anything to protect.

These situations are not made any better by Alya’s overly excited encouragements. She chides Marinette, whispering cliched things like ‘You need to get out more.’ and ‘Come on, you’re only (insert age at the time here) once.’

It is a testament to Marinette’s poor judgement how often these sayings sway her decisions. Through the years from high school up until now, she’s found her lack of discretion something to be worried about…and yet somehow, it always works out.

So it’s how she finds herself here, in a particularly isolated little copse of the Agreste house, rehearsing last minute excuses and lies. She hides behind a particularly enormous porcelain vase with gilded floral designs, hastily scrolling through a list of abbreviated facts on her cracked phone screen. (Another story for another time.)

Marinette lets the words form just barely on her lips, muttering past the din of a thousand casual conversations all woven through with the sweet sounds of a saxophone and lilting piano. It’s a little odd that Nino would perform at this kind of event, since jazz is hardly his usual MO, still she is anything but ungrateful. Sneaking her in under the guise of a sound technician helping out with his equipment had been his birthday gift to her. A bit belated, but she’s been waiting for an opportunity like this for a lifetime.

The chance to meet her one and only inspiration…her idol…the man who threads a thousand colors and brings designs to fruition with a mere flourish of his elegant hands. A man who single handedly built up his brand…whose humble beginnings, like hers, started with a beat up sewing machine and faded sketchbook.

Gabriel Agreste was truly someone worth sneaking into a VIP event for. Even if it meant rattling off a few learned facts and falsehoods to curious bystanders. But amongst all the noise and the bustle and her haste to get changed into her fancy schmancy outfit, the details slip from her memory, fading into little fragments of words half remembered.

  
Marinette pays that no mind, because it’s time to make her move.

She stows away her phone into her delicate silk black clutch, snapping the masterfully fitted clasp close with trembling fingers. Nimble fingers reach up to tuck back strands of inky hair into her high bun. She’s already checked her make-up back in the bathroom, and she’s sure the extra money spent on wear proof lipstick will be worth it when she’s shaking Mr. Agreste’s hand.

There’s something like fear curling in the pit of her stomach, but she nervously smooths down the red gossamer folds of her original dress, recalling every stitch and every tear that had gone into making this piece.

It helps to settle her enough that she gains the courage to step out from behind the vase, glance around the empty hallway, and click clack her way across imported white marble to the main hall where the party is already in full swing.

  
Well as full swing as you can get with smooth jazz as the soundtrack.

She doesn’t quite remember the occasion, only that it has something to do with the Agreste name and that’s a good enough reason to venture into Terra incognita.

  
She treads with a hesitant kind of pride through the throng of party goers, politely nodding when she receives a greeting or two from complete strangers.

She is overwhelmed.

The gilded walls and the fine wrought iron crystal chandeliers and the plush red carpet lining the hallways are all new to her…such finery is certainly something to be astounded by…maybe if she weren’t so preoccupied picking her way through the tight crowd looking for a flash of silvery blonde hair or an impossibly immaculate suit she’s only seen on the covers of magazines.

She almost wishes it were a masquerade…her dress stands out amongst all the designer ones, and she is seriously starting to question using a ladybug as her inspiration. But ladybugs had always been her good luck charm and the trailing black dots that ring the bodice of her dress are a tribute to that fortune.

She catches sight of Nino on the raised dais at the far end of the hall, back turned to the crowd as he plays the ebony grand piano. His tuxedo-clad form sways dispassionately to the mellow tones coming from beneath his fingers and Marinette has a strange urge to cry.

(Friendships are very emotionally fringed affairs for Marinette.)

“Thank you, Nino.” She says quietly, making a mental note to bring him an entire box of cinnamon rolls from her family bakery when all of this is over and she is a successful designer at Gabriel’s company.

And she’s just about to renew her search for Gabriel Agreste when she is accosted by her first obstacle.

She nearly screams when he appears in the corner of her sight.

“Good evening, miss. I’m sorry to bother you.” He tells her, not quite blocking her way, but still standing close enough to make getting past him without talking to him an impossibility.

She swears to the heavens that he came out of nowhere, the golden haze of the lights coalescing into a human manifestation of subtle smugness and curiosity.

He stands out amongst all the guests mostly because of his age. His youthful smile is a contrast to the many lined and mature faces that predominate the gala. In fact, she would venture he was perhaps the youngest one here, besides her.

He’s beautiful. Tall and lithe in a black tuxedo and white button-down shirt. Green eyes glittering just as brightly as the luminescent chandeliers above, dandelion hair smoothed to the side in a gentle sweeping waves.

But that golden hair is more like sunshine than ice. It is a glaring difference that reminds her just who she’s looking for, and as they say, ambition is a terribly blinding thing.

She gives him her best imperious gaze, looking up at him following the line of her pert nose, eyes half lidded.

It leaves her feeling a bit underhanded. She’s not a mean person by nature, but if she wants to meet Gabriel Agreste, she’s going to have to act the part of a very important person.

“Good evening, sir…may I help you?” She drawls, mouth twitching a bit at the overdone lilt she’s put into her words.

His smile seems to edge into his pretty eyes now, and she finds herself swallowing thickly…the thought of Gabriel Agreste being the only thing anchoring her to her goal.

This person is far too good looking and she doesn’t like that look of dangerous amusement in his eyes.

  
She prepares herself for a volley of questions. Perhaps an interrogation on how she knows so and so of Agreste company. She’s mentally running through her list of excuses, nervousness scattering the fragments into panicked statements that may or may not make any sense.

“I like your dress.” He simply says, tucking his hands into the pockets of his finely tailored dark trousers.

Out of all the things he could have said, this was from what she’d been expecting…so it’s to her credit that she even manages to eek out a sound from her flapping mouth.

“ah…ummm…eeeh…m-my dress?” She stutters, all assumed gravitas flown out the window on metaphorical wings of luck.  
He chuckles and still she is left gaping.

  
“Yes. Your dress. May I ask who designed it? It’s certainly very unique.”

If her words were a person, she would defenestrate them for betraying her so badly.

“I uh…I did…” She finally manages, faint pride tinging her words as she tightens her hold on the white chiffon wrap settled around her elbows.

He seems genuinely surprised at that and leans a little more into her space. He’s a good bit taller than her, so he looms over her in a manner that could have been threatening had it not been for the barely polite distance he kept.

“You did?! That’s amazing. The point work looks professional and the design falls perfectly around your figure. The gossamer overlay is a nice touch.” He gushes, one hand beneath his chin as he all but drags his sight all over her creation.

“Tha..thank you.” She barely manages, fingers digging into the folds of her wrap until she’s sure they’ll break. She can barely remember what she’s here for because his praise echoes in her mind.

Marinette feels the red of her dress swirl and seep into her skin, burning across her neck and cheeks until she’s sure he’ll ask if she has a fever soon.

Regardless, his laughter peaks when he sees the pale white chiffon bow spreading wide across her back, mimicking the translucent wings peeking from beneath a red carapace.

“I see you were very inspired by ladybugs.”

She nods a little carefully, reminding herself that she needs to start her future today and that time is running out. She’s not here for cute boys with great fashion knowledge. So she looks beyond him, tilting her head to try and catch sight of silvery hair.

And then the shift is almost palpable. His open, friendly smile falls into a lopsided grin edged with the most subtle of threats. His green eyes harden into jade pieces, piercing and all focused on Marinette.

She finds her attention woefully redirected back to him and this time it’s definitely fear that settles like a stone into her stomach.

“Speaking of bugs, I don’t remember ever seeing you around here before, my lady.”  
And the way he says the moniker is laced with the tiniest bit of sarcasm. He looks at her fully, eyes still burning with amusement at her expense.

And Marinette’s rarely awake pride flares at that, rising like vines to wrap around her spine and bring her to her full height…which isn’t much compared to his, but it’s enough to make her smile right on back.

“This is my first time here. I’ve never been invited before today.”

“Is that so?” He says blithely, leaning a little closer to her…he’s close enough to catch a whiff of his richly scented cologne…something that reminds her of old leather and flowering rose gardens. “How do you know Felix then?”

“F-felix?” She echoes, the name sounding vaguely familiar…but really, she’d been guilty of skimming over the personal life part of Gabriel Agreste’s wiki page. The only thing she’s sure of is that he has two sons. She’s never even bothered to look at pictures of them.

  
And all her fragmented facts begin to fly around her head, landing briefly on the petals of common sense only to permanently house themselves in the corner of “things Marinette will regret later on.”

This is an opportunity. A chance she should take to lie her way into good standing. It’ll all be worth it when she’s standing side by side with Gabriel watching her designs float down his runway.

So she lies like she’s never lied before.  
“I uh…oh yeah Felix…I’m dating his brother.”

She waits for his reaction…anything in his expression to let her know if what she’s said makes any sense.

Her body tenses visibly, her hands fisting into the folds of her dress. The humdrum of the guests behind her and the music have faded into a ringing in her ears that makes her feel hazy and nervous.

  
But the man merely chuckles softly, his expression softening back into his original gentleness and she relaxes.

She looks up at him, brows arched in expectation.

“Oh gosh…that’s good to know. Heard he’s an awesome guy. Way less uptight than Felix.” He gives her the strangest look here, his smile wide and sly. “Good for you, Ladybug.”

Marinette’s relief is so great, she feels as if she could float out one of the wide windows and drift into the silvery light of the stars. Her smile is broad and genuine as she nods enthusiastically. Even if his nickname for her is a bit demeaning, she’s too happy to let her mood be ruined.

“He’s the best…the sweetest boyfriend I could have asked for.”

The lie comes naturally, falling shamelessly from her pretty red lips as relief makes her giddy and reckless. She drops her hands to rest against her thighs, holding loosely onto her clutch.

“Oh yeah. I’m sure of it. Like I said, word is he’s a really cool guy. Not that Felix isn’t, but he’s a little too uhh shy..to socialize with most people.” He says sagely, smiling just a little too widely. “I guess that’s why he wasn’t really looking forward to this college graduation party of his.”

There’s something fond in the way he says this about Felix, but Marinette is only too relieved to really put much thought into anything this night.

“Speak of the devil.” He mutters, pulling her from her lull.

“Wh-what?” She questions, eyes wide in bewilderment.

He looks over her shoulder, waving broadly to someone whose elegant steps she can just make out over the din.

“Heya Felix! Where have you been?!” Her new acquaintance says a little too loudly, excitement and affection clear on his face.

She stiffens and turns to find who she supposes is the guest of honor himself.

Felix is just as tall, if not a little bit taller, than her companion. He wears a tailored charcoal vest over a button up shirt. His slim, pale face gazes at her with a look of faint disdain. His hair sweeps over his icy gray eyes, bringing to mind the person she’d been looking for all along.

His lips don’t quite curl into a sneer, but they’re close to that as he speaks.

“Adrien, who is this?” He enquires, his tone entirely too flat to indicate anything but the barest interest.

The name Adrien rings just as vaguely familiar as Felix in her mind. The fragments of her last minute notes settle into clarity only seconds before her world is shattered.

She feels a strongly muscled arm smoothly wind its way around her back. A large hand settles warmly on her shoulder and she realizes she’s been tucked tenderly into Adrien’s side.

He’s smiling down at her, that earlier threat beaming from his lovely green eyes. She can hear that same smug amusement, all at her expense, in his tone as he says-

“This is my girlfriend. Come on Sweetheart, say hello to my brother Felix.”  
—-  
“And then I said I had to use the restroom and ran out of there like my dress was on fire. And you know what, it probably was with how much I lied to them. ” Marinette finishes, burying her head into her pillow so she can continue to scream her consternation without disturbing the neighbors.

Alya gives her a sympathetic look, glasses slightly misted over by the steam coming from the mug of tea she holds close.

Marinette’s muffled curses cause her some amusement however, and she laughs a lot harder than the first time.  
Alya finally manages to calm herself until she’s only snickering quietly…she’s breathless as she tries to talk.

“Oh my God, Marinette…no wonder Nino called me asking me what to do. He said you looked so pale, he thought you were going to faint on the way home.“

A series of high pitched cries emanate from Marinette. Her bare arms are hugging the twisted pillow to her on her lap. Her entire torso is curled around it to bury her face further into the fabric.

“All I’m hearing is incoherent screaming. You’re still not okay, are you?”

Marinette lifts her head slowly, eyes shifting to give Alya clearly spelling out “no duh.” But Alya knows Marinette, and she can see that beyond the embarrassment, there’s a genuine worry clinging to her lashes in the form of barely there tears.

Alya sets down her mug on the spindly nightstand to the right of her.

Her smile softens as she shifts across the full sized bed to gather Marinette up into a comforting position.Marinette stiffly complies, moving into an awkward place where her head rests on Alya’s lap. She soon begins braiding strands of Marinette’s inky hair, fingers deftly threading the plaits.

“You dork. It’ll be fine. I mean, it’s not like you’ll ever see them again…and besides, it doesn’t seem like either of Gabriel’s sons are really involved in his work.”

Marinette’s mouth twists in consternation. Her flushed cheeks pale at the thought of ever meeting either one of them…but Alya is logical as always and she makes a great point.

“I…I guess.” She sniffs, still intensely embarrassed and very uncomfortable. She’s still in her dress, having been way too embarrassed to change when she got back into her apartment. Her first instinct had been to call Alya. Her second had been to cry her tears of shame into her pillow until even the waterproof mascara was running down her face.

“At least the worst part wasn’t that Gabriel Agreste wasn’t even at the party, huh?” Alya says lightly, humor unfurling softly across both their faces. “and on the bright side, you have a boyfriend.”

“Shut up, Alya.” Marinette gripes, a hidden amusement changing her frown slightly.

“Come on?! Based on those pictures, he’s a pretty good catch. Smart too. He’s studying physi-”

That is Marinette’s cue to gather whatever is left of her pride, rise swiftly from Alya’s lap, and hit her with a pillow until she admits that she’s joking and that Marinette can find someone better than a guy who calls her Ladybug.  
It’s only when the emergency sleepover has lulled into late night quiet time and Alya is sprawled next to her, snoring lightly, that she tells herself it will be okay.

And that Adrien Agreste really was handsome…but it’s just a thought.  
She comforts herself with the knowledge that she’ll never see hide nor dandelion hair of him or his brother again.  
-  
As much as Marinette dreams of being a fashion designer, the reality is that design school is intensely expensive and few students ever get the big break they all so passionately wish for.

It’s why she splits her time, however despairingly, between being a full time student and a part time server at a small cafe.

Her parents had offered to pay her for working at the bakery, but she had felt that small bit of pride hiss at the suggestion of what she deemed as an allowance. Her fierce independence was what lead her to rent the tiny apartment across town in the first place…that and the commute was much shorter and worth the rent.

Still, between late night assignments and even later night misadventures like the Agreste incident, she often finds herself sleeping past the intricate series of alarms she’s set up.

So it’s not uncommon for her to run through the streets of Paris, weaving her way expertly through the tiniest alleys and past the gritty back sides of buildings to get to work on time.

She crosses they very empty Rue de la Chance with that same hasty stride, her boots clicking steadily against the asphalt and her red skirt swirling joyously around her thighs.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a girl of ambition and she let’s her dreams waft her forward, with visions of runways and designs floating in front of her. All she needs to do is get to the cafe in fifteen minutes or less.

(Madame Perriot is hardly a forgiving manager. Marinette already has two strikes.)

She’s so engrossed in her routine, that she receives an ugly wake up call when there’s a vague roaring of an engine and the front wheel of a motorcycle lurches forward suddenly to knock her off her feet and send her flying across the asphalt.

The first thing she registers is a large tear in the sleeve of her gray peacoat.

The second is that she’s still alive.

The third is that she’s achy, but not in excruciating pain and the fourth thing is that the owner of the motorcycle has let it fall to the wayside and is panicking as he approaches her.

“OH CRAP! I’m so sorry, miss. Are you okay? Do you need me to take you to hospital?”

His helmet is still on, muffling his voice as he hovers over her, gloved hands floating uselessly near her prone form.

She’s too stunned to answer, merely glancing at her silver wristwatch and notes with panic that she’s got less than 10 minutes left to get to her shift on time.

That drives her to action. She brushes past his concerned gestures and lifts her aching self up on to her feet, using his outstretched arms as a crutch.

She takes stock of her limbs. They’re all working.

Good..good.

And Marinette panics again, letting her thoughts drift to the same corner of “things Marinette will regret later.”

She clings to the harrowed man’s leather jacket, blue eyes wild and face smudged with dirt as she implores him.

“TAKE ME TO WORK!” She screeches.

“OKAY!” He shouts back, clearly still panicking from the fact that he almost ran over someone.

She doesn’t waste time, merely scrambles over to his thrown down sleek black motorcycle, grateful that the street is still empty at this time on a Saturday morning.

She looks lost as she tries to grip it and pull it up, only to feel significantly small and weak when the man comes up and rights it with little effort.

He mounts it with an easy grace that is starting to shift into the familiar, but she pushes through thought down because he’s still gazing in her direction, expression hidden by the visor on his black helmet.

“Come on! I’ll take you where you need to go!”

And for some reason, his earnest offer makes her forget that he knocked over in the first place and makes her smile sweetly as she lumbers over to him and awkwardly sits behind him.

He hands her a spare helmet. Something she slips on with difficulty as she tries not to crush her already lopsided sleek bun.

“Hold on!” He tells her, hysteria still making his muffled voice come out louder than she supposes he usually talks.

She’s riding the same anxiety, gripping tight around his neck until he starts coughing.

“Ah…I’m so sorry…so sorry.” She says franticly, settling her grip around his shoulders instead.

He shakes his head, as if to say…”it’s only fair. I almost killed you and you almost choked me.”

But there’s no more time to process anything because the bike roars to life beneath the two of them, and the sudden change in speed is dizzying. She can barely remember to tell him where to turn and how to get there, but they do eventually end up in front of the small cafe.

And sure enough, Madame Pierrot is already at the glass entrance, one hand on a plump hip and the other lifted to look at her watch. Her dark slacks swish with the tapping of her foot. The lines around her mouth deepen with impatience, dark eyes gathering in the sight in front of her cafe with faint surprise.

Marinette has already slid off of the bike and removed the helmet, giving it sheepishly to the man balancing expertly on his motorcycle.

Pierrot eyes Marinette sternly, nodding in approval as the clock indicates that she is three minutes early. Then she heads inside, still tapping the watch to emphasize that time is still ticking.

Marinette gives a nervous titter of laughter as the man’s expression is still hidden.

“I uh…” She fiddles with the tear in her sleeve, the events of the morning just barely settling into a modicum of sense.

“I uh…thank you…umm…”

She hears a sharp gasp, a brief guffaw distorted behind the helmet and then the visor is lifted to reveal a horrifyingly familiar face.

“Man…what are the chances? I almost didn’t recognize you out of costume, Ladybug!”

Green eyes glint in mirth, still slightly apologetic as he peers at her from his bike.

Marinette is too stunned to do much but sputter out incomprehensible noises. Her fiddling stops, and embarrassment and irritation roil within her to flush across her cheeks.

“I almost killed my own girlfriend. Oh are you sure you’re okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?” His amusement fading to worry as he watches her face pale dramatically.

He’s to the point where he’s moving to step off the bike, but she merely nods her head vigorously, screeches something about being late for work, and dashes into the cafe.

Adrien sits for a few moments, absolute bewilderment flooding his expression. He debates for a few moments about going inside and checking up on the girl, but he doesn’t see her beyond all the tables and the counter top and he sure as hell doesn’t like the looks the manager is shooting him.

He merely chalks up the encounter to chance and drives off, still incredulous at the turn of affairs.

And yet, he still can’t stop laughing at the absurdity of it all. Maybe something good is happening…or maybe it’s just a series of embarrassing coincidents…whatever it is, he’s just glad he hadn’t killed someone today.


	2. One does not simply crash their bike into Mordor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I.e. the chapter based on a real life incident. Thank you to everyone commented or supported this trainwreck.

Ch 2. One does not simply crash their bike into Mordor

I.e. the chapter based on a real life experience I had. shoutout to [@miraculousturtle](https://tmblr.co/mGZQaSP4Vd7krKwQVfLAaDg) and [@miraculyfe](https://tmblr.co/m2bxx2PTP3RM47YkbH_ZwOw) for aiding and abetting this monstrosity.

Let it be known that Marinette Dupain-Cheng is an intrinsically social creature. So even in those quiet summer mornings when the golden light drifts beckoning through her window, she wants to talk to someone. 

It’s how she’s found herself in this position for the past two years. Idly sitting on the side of her bed pressed up underneath the window and chattering away to the pink potted cosmos on her window sill.

“I don’t know Tikki. It sounds like a really expensive investment.”

“…..”

“Ah…yeah. I don’t think getting run over by fake boyfriends is going to be a problem anymore. My luck isn’t that bad.”

“….”

“TIKKI! NO. He’s uh…not my type. Besides, we’re talking about bikes here, not boys. Focus.”

“….”

“No. I know. It might be more efficient…and the city really is suited for it, but it’s kind of pricey and I’m still saving up for fabrics.”

“…”

“Look, I’m not being a cheapskate. I’m trying to be economic here. Besides, you’re one to talk…free loading in my apartment for so long.”

Marinette sighs, eyeing the lovely little ladybug that putters along the dainty stems of the blooms. It seems to meander peacefully, only stopping to wave it’s antennae in her direction when she gives a fond chuckle. 

“Fine. I’ll buy a bike.” She concedes, theatrically flinging up her arms in defeat. “You make some good arguments. It’ll have to be used.”

Tikki merely crawls into a partially unfurled bud, antennae moving merrily to a perceived victory.

“Oh god, you’re impossible.” Marinette says half-heartedly, already mentally listing off places she can buy a used bike in Paris.  
—-

She ends buying a slightly rusty bicycle from the Saturday flea market. A great find she hadn’t had to break the bank for, the chipped red paint is somehow both foreboding and welcoming as she wheels it through the streets.

“Red is a good luck color.” She cheerfully tells herself, repeating the mantra the seller had consistently slipped into the bargaining. She has to agree, but she will take his claims of this bike having won the Tour de France with a large grain of salt.

The sun is warm. The city is sleepy and La Seine shimmers a scintillating jade in the summer heat. 

It prompts her to stop at small corner, stretching one leg over the bike to mount it awkwardly.

The seat is a bit too high and the edge of it catches on the cuff of her shorts, but she manages to get on eventually and settles her pink flats on the wide pedals.

And with that, she’s off, winding her way through light traffic.

She’s really glad vacation is such a serious business in France. It leaves Paris vaguely empty, save for the tourists that look at her home with fresh eyes and the locals too strapped for cash to make the annual exodus to the South.

So she laughs freely, pumping her legs faster and faster until she’s speeding down one of the few hills the city boasts, sloping up into rue de Telephone. 

The breeze ruffles the collar of her creamy blouse and cards through her untied hair.

She is the picture of summer freedom…but Marinette has never been good at foresight, and her knowledge of bikes is limited to riding them.

She takes a sharp right turn, the wide street ringed by very nice looking townhouses steeply angles downhill.

Marinette simply smiles, weaving through the speed with alacrity and pushes the brakes as an afterthought as the bottom of the hill is revealed to be an intersection.

But she doesn’t slow down.

Panic ensues as she plants her feet down on either side, awkwardly trying to slow down her descent.

“Fuck. FUCK. SHIT. OMG!” She cries as she realizes three things.

One, she should have made sure the brakes were in full service before buying this death trap.

Two, she lost her right shoe about ten feet back up that hill.

Three, the bottom of the hill is a fairly busy intersection.

Quickly deducing that she has about ten seconds of living remaining, she spots a little service street to the left ahead of her careening path.

She doesn’t think, merely screams at the top of her lungs as she swerves quickly into the opening of the street.

It’s not empty.

There’s a hollow metallic ringing and a sharp shooting pain in her leg that doesn’t register past the rushing of blood through her ears. 

It’s enough to slow down her bike, giving her a chance to waddle her way to a halting stop, narrowly avoiding the other end of the shiny, expensive black sedan she’d already hit once.

She hops off, letting her bike fall to the ground with a resounding clatter of disappointment, vindication filling her when it collapses on itself and somehow the front wheel detaches from its brackets.

The door of the car behind her opens and she whirls around with a painful hiss, panic lacing her voice as she rides out that wave of adrenaline and proceeds to spew out a drivel of words that may or may not make sense.

She limps her way in the car’s general direction, eyes landing on the hulking form of a man with a surly expression and a confused glimmer in his dark gaze.

He’s dressed in a nice suit and turtleneck, and there’s a vague whisper in her mind that tells her he reminds her of something….but she’s too riled up to care.

“I”m so sorry. My brakes weren’t working and I just swerved into this street thinking it was empty and oh my god, is your car okay?! Is it hurt?! Did I hurt your car?”

She is clutching at strands of her windswept hair, blue eyes swimming with unshed tears at the thought of having to pay for damages and ruining someone’s property. Any money she saved on buying the used bike would be lost.

Marinette’s mouth seems to twist into a pout, her lower lip trembling with the emotion that runs through her. Her leg is throbbing, and she knows she’ll have a huge bruise soon.

But humiliation is fresh and it’s only made worse when the back passenger door opens and out steps none other than the proud Felix Agreste himself.

“What on earth is going on…oh.” His lilting voice trails off in confusion, gray eyes landing with piercing precision on a mortified Marinette. 

“It’s you.” He says simply, derision clear in his tone.

She’s standing awkwardly now, the tears of self pity quickly turning into ones of embarrassment as they prick her eyes. She leans on her left leg, avoiding putting weight on her injured one and she is gaping.

That is the only way to describe the current mix of horror, embarrassment and humorless amusement lacing her expression. The emotions shift quickly and clearly across her face, letting him know exactly what she’s thinking.

Then again, it might be the fact that she has promptly shouted Nope! and hobbled about as best she can in the opposite direction, leaving behind her mess of a bike.

She gets about as far as a few feet before she hears hurried footsteps behind her and slim fingers stop her by holding her shoulder.

“Wait. You’re injured.” He says quietly, that same faint disdain curling his lips as he looks down at her. “I can’t just leave my brother’s current girlfriend to limp home.”

She feels mired to her spot, chains of heavy embarrassment rooting her. She knows she’s going to have to face judgment sometime. But karma is cruel and she thought she’d already had her share after the motorcycle incident with Adrien.

As it is, she doesn’t know how Felix can stand to even look at her.

But then it registers what he’s called her. 

“G-girlfriend?” She stutters out, red blooming across her cheeks as she sways in place. He still thinks that she’s….that means Adrien…oh god. There’s a faint keening and she realizes it’s coming from the depths of her throat.

Felix lets go of her, crossing his arms over his gray blazer to contemplate her.

“Although I don’t know why he’s chosen a tea kettle of all people.”

The keening stops when her mouth closes with a snap. Marinette wants to die. Her filter is currently broken, worn out past its due because of the current overload. She says the only thing that comes to mind.

“I uh…I uh….is your car okay? The gorilla man didn’t say.” 

There’s a beat before the aforementioned gorilla man heaves a sigh and slips back into the car without a word.

And then it hits Marinette just exactly what she’s said.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. That was so rude. I’m so sorry. Oh my god, I have to apologize. I can’t let him…oh god this is the worst. I’m the worst.” She spews, limping around Felix to make her way to the possibly offended chauffeur. 

Felix smoothly makes his way to block her, hands outstretched in case her precarious balance fails her like her words seem to have.

She might be imagining it, but humor gleams in his eyes and she would have found him a lot nicer looking if it hadn’t been clear that she is the source of his mirth.  
  
He seems a little breathless, a derisive snort delicately affirming her conclusions.

“You can apologize to him in the car, Ms. Kettle.”

“But….but the dent?” is all she manages, vaguely gesturing to the hood in the front where her leg had made a sizable bend.

He can see that this girl is clearly addled. Her priorities skewed beyond all hope. So he humors her ridiculous protests.

He merely examines the metal for a moment before he places a few well aimed open handed blows and with a resounding pop the metal is back to its original state. 

“There. Now will you please get in the car. Adrien will never let me hear the end of it if I abandoned you in the state you’re in.” He says with exasperation, opening the door for her with all the poise of a gentleman and all the disdain of a cat.

She nods mutely, wondering why her life choices are taking her straight to a place of no return.

They’re nearly a block away when she shouts-

“WAIT MY BARGAIN BIKE!”  
—–

After the initial struggle of fitting what remains of her bargain bike into the spacious trunk, they drive off. 

Go…The chauffeur seems to have accepted her apology with silent amusement, a rare smile flashed at her through his rear view mirror.

But even with that relief, she still feels trapped. Her breathing is shallow, hands fisted into the folds of her blouse as she attempts to regain her bearings.

Felix sits across from her, legs crossed and a contemplative look on his face as he gazes at her. 

“I didn’t have the pleasure of conversing with you much at the gala. And then you ran off with such a hurried excuse…I wonder…” He drawls, his lips curling into a for-sure sneer.

Marinette feels a frisson of fear ripple down her back, already praying to every powerful supernatural force that comes to mind as she waits.

“Are you free tomorrow morning, say at 11:00?” 

“Wha…?” She says blandly, clearly not expecting that at all. 

“Ms. Tea Kettle, which will have to be your name for now because I don’t know what your real-”

“Marinette!” She interrupts hotly, red in the face with humiliation and the slight stinging of that small pride of hers railing against the indignity of it all.

“Very well, Kettle. Are you free or not?” He continues, unaffected. 

She wonders if rude monikers are a trait of the Agreste family, because between Ladybug and Tea Kettle, she’s starting to notice a pattern. Still, the image of Gabriel Agreste stooping to such childish behavior does not sit well with the pedestal she’s put him on, so she decides it might be a generational trait…after all, she had called the driver Gorilla man.

Slightly pouting, she heaves a sigh and wearily answers.

“Yes. Why?” Although it comes out more like ya—ess.

Felix merely fixes her with an imperious gaze, far more effective than the one she attempted to shower on Adrien back at the gala. She feels the full weight of it and unconsciously scrunches herself closer to the door and freedom.

Just in case.

He merely reaches into the interior of his finely tailored charcoal vest, and elegantly grasps a card printed on heavy stock paper. The writing is in gold ink, flashing primly in her direction as he hands it to her.

She takes it hesitantly, glancing between the card and him several times before she gets the hint to read it.

“You are formally invited to a brunch at the Agreste Estate.” She says out loud, eyes slowly widening as it sinks in. “Do you just happen to carry brunch invitations in your pocket at all times?”

“And?” Felix interrupts impatiently.

“And….why am I being invited?” Marinette says surreptitiously. 

“You are my brother’s girlfriend. Are you not?”

Her fear is telling her to run away, because she’s already lied and her fake boyfriend seems to be abetting her in that lie for some unknown reason….even three weeks after that disastrous event.

But there’s a part of her that whispers…'once in a lifetime chance to meet Gabriel Agreste.'

She battles internally with herself. Sadly, it seems her reasoning unit has been permanently moved to the part of her brain that was responsible for her earlier debacles.

So she takes the challenge of circumstance and lies…again.

“Yes. Of course I am…and yes, I’ll come.” She answers gamely, a slight smile of apprehension spreading across her face. She’s still scared, but if there’s on thing she’s good at, it’s following through her mishaps.

“Very well then, Ms. Tea Kettle. I will see you tomorrow.” He makes an expression of distaste as he takes in her ruined outfit. Her shirt is untucked and wrinkled. Her knees are bruised and dusty from falling. She still only has one shoe on. 

“Please dress accordingly.”

She wants to scream. She wants to pound her fists against the nice imported leather of the seat and tell him that she’s perfectly capable of being fashionable enough for a brunch party.

But before she can say anything, Felix gestures to the window beside her.

“I believe this is your apartment complex.” He points out snidely. His cold smile tells her he knows precisely that this is where she lives and she feels a shudder of nervousness wrack her.

“How…oh my god…you…you…” She stutters out, going red in the face as she points at him.

He seems to wait for her coherence to return, a smug smile on his lips until she says the thing that comes to mind.

“You’re a stalker. Holy crap.” She breathes, promptly opens the door and all but crawls out of the car, not even bothering to say goodbye. She runs down the sidewalk, hobbling as fast as she can.

She hastily looks over her shoulder one last time before fumbling with the keys in her pocket and jarring open the gate to run up the stairs.

Felix is left in the wake of her accusation, mouth agape and face pale with mortification.

The chauffeur is bent over the steering wheel, thick chest shaking with suppressed laughter.

“It wasn’t funny, Gorilla.” Felix bites out, using the affectionate family nickname for the veteran chauffeur. He’d been with them for decades and it wasn’t an insult.

But Felix is too protective of those he loves and he’s determined not to let this little chit of a girl entrench herself any further in Adrien’s life. He’s going to make the tea kettle cry so hard, she’ll want to leave their family alone.

He doesn’t know what his brother sees in Marinette Dupain-Cheng…but he’s not going to wait until Adrien’s heart is broken to find out.  
—-

Marinette wakes in the middle of the night, clutching her sheets as she shouts-

“I left my bike in the car!”

She finds it almost impossible to sleep after that, stomach churning with nerves and an analysis of what exactly happened today.

She’s starting to find these incidents entirely too eery and her luck isn’t that bad….it shouldn’t be…but the knowledge that Adrien hasn’t told his brother the truth makes her wonder what exactly he’s thinking.

And she’s determined to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FELIX AGRESTE IS A MEANIE. BARGAIN BIKE IS ACTUALLY A TREASURE.


	3. Bad Luck Felix: Karma is a B!+€h

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Felix and Karma have a date. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who LEFT A REVIEW OR KUDOS.

Part 3: Bad Luck Felix

There comes a point in every person’s life where they must look past the gold tinged lenses of their own pride and admit to themselves that some of the shittier things to happen are at least partly their fault.

Marinette has had lots of practice. For all her bad luck, she will accept blame where it’s due. So it comes as a surprise to her that forgiveness comes so easily in her direction after a disastrous Sunday brunch.

The morning starts with some frantic pacing, her bare feet treading a groove on the already scratched wood floor of her bedroom. Her gauzy peach skirt floats lazily around her calves, about as delicately smooth as Marinette is clumsily frazzled.

Her hands wave in the air as she hysterically bounces ideas off of the ever silent Tikki.

“No…see Tikki, I can’t afford something that nice. Oh crap. I’m going to be roasted alive. Gabriel Agreste will look at me like the destitute peon I am and probably be so insulted by whatever I can afford that I’ll never be able to work in the fashion industry again.”

A pink petal shifts slightly under Tikki and her languid progress.

Marinette thinks she’s mocking her. She gives an exasperated sigh, nervously tying off her shoulder length hair into a pretty fishtail braid. She smooths down any stray hairs on her forehead, and then gives her ladybug a hard look.

“You need to take this seriously, Tikki. Because if I can’t find a job as a designer, I’m going to have to move back in with Maman and Pere…and the windows there aren’t as open to the air as the one here. And oh god, I’m going to be a failure, and they’ll find out that I lied and that jerk, Adrien is probably going to have a good laugh and I’ll never be able to show my face in Paris aga-”

It is at this point that a soft buzzing of wings resounds and Marinette grows cross-eyed looking at the ladybug that has chosen to perch squarely on her freckled nose.

“T-tikki?”

Tikki merely flits off again, startling Marinette enough that she follows the bug’s path across her room until she perches on a discarded golden chocolate wrapper.

Her tiny body patters all over the foil, antennae waving in seeming agitation.

“Oh…I guess you can never go wrong with chocolates.” Marinette says quietly, still a little bit in disbelief at this turn of events. She gives a shaky laugh, tucking in her white sleeveless blouse into the band of her skirt.

Tikki merely returns to her flowers, stepping cheerfully over leaves as she searches for aphids to eat. \---- 

Marinette isn’t quite sure what the Agrestes even like. She isn’t even sure that they have any inclination towards sweets.

But she is nothing but thorough…mostly.

So she clutches the little blue gift bag in her hands, nodding determinedly as she lists off the assortments she had purchased. She had to dip a bit into the money saved from the bargain bike purchase, but it’s with a lot of vindication.

She knows she looks pretty. Her gift is thoughtful and while she wished she could have sewn something as a gift, there hadn’t been enough time for that.

With everything in order, she has to ask herself why she feels so small as she looks up at the beautiful wrought iron gates. The pale marble of the archway entrance is slightly menacing, casting a large shadow over her and half the sidewalk.

Thankfully, she is saved the trouble of pressing the call button when a very familiar hulking form casts another large shadow over her.

It’s the gor….the driver from yesterday’s horrible incident.

(Marinette pinches herself in consternation, mentally berating herself for the rude nickname.)

She can’t quite tell if he’s smiling or not beyond his heavy brow, but his eyes seem to shine good naturedly as he nods at her through the railing.

She quickly pulls out the brunch invitation and he chuckles, waving her off as if to say it wasn’t necessary.

He presses a button on a panel hidden somewhere on the other side of the marble archway.

The gates open with a foreboding click and then swing inwards as Marinette veritably screams in surprise. The loud crinkling of the gift bag in her hands lets her know she’s crushed it.

She looks despondent as she glances down at the bag, tears pricking her eyes as all her earlier feelings of inadequacy pop up, flooding the corner of her mind so often occupied by things-not-thought-through.

The driver’s laughter is warm and a little bit insulting as he waves her inside, pointing her down the winding driveway.

She steps forward with trepidation, tilting her head at the large man with slight fear and confusion.

“Y-you’re not coming with me?” She asks quietly and heaves a disappointed sigh when he wordlessly shakes his head.

His hand is warm and heavy on her slim shoulder when he gives her a comforting pat.

“Go on.” He tells her gruffly, and has to cough a little into his hands when she gives him a bright smile full of earnest thanks.

He watches her step delicately down the cobblestone driveway, amusement warring with slight worry as he prays for her safe escape from the clutches of the Agrestes.

Still, the small one seems to be a girl who lives without too many regrets, and it’s going to serve her well.  
—

It all happens so fast.

“Aww, chocolates? You didn’t have to, sweetie.” Adrien chuckles as he rips open the packaging deftly. His smile is sweetly sardonic, if that’s even possible. His mien is an amalgamation of open happiness with an undercurrent of slight suspicion.

He looks infuriatingly lovely in a white collared shirt and jeans, but it’s enough to make her angrier.

But he still plays along and Marinette has no opportunity to interrogate him because Felix steps elegantly into the room through the gilded aperture.

Everything unravels then…the fabric of her life unspooling into a disastrous affair.

One second, she’s awkwardly watching Adrien unwrapping a golden wrapped truffle, the foil shining cheaply in the face of the understated finery that is the Agreste’s receiving room.

The next second, Felix has plucked the chocolate treat from Adrien’s hands. 

“You presume to give this, to my brother, Kettle?” 

He gives one disdainful look in her direction, before he plops the truffle into his finely shaped mouth.

(Again, Felix is too protective of those he loves. And it is a truth written in the stone of his heart that he loves Adrien best.)

Adrien seems to be amused for all of three seconds before Felix’s look of disdain slips into one of surprise when he starts coughing. He grasps at his throat, and his face is red. His cheeks grow swollen and flushed as he wheezes.

He falls to his knees, air whistling through his airways.

Adrien and Marinette scream at the same time.

“Oh merde!?”

“Oh shit?! Is he allergic to nuts?! How was I supposed to know.” 

“HELP!” 

Adrien’s hands hover uselessly over his brother.

“I…Felix. Talk to me. What’s going on?” He says frantically. 

The commotion of the servants rushing in a panic to the receiving room makes the situation even more harrowing and Marinette’s focus becomes laser thin as she pats Felix’s silk - lined pockets for something.

“Fuck yeah!” She shouts as she pulls an epi-pen out of Felix’s front pocket. She quickly uncaps the safety and poises the needle at a 90 degree angle at over his thigh. 

Adrien screams a pitch that would make a prima Donna soprano jealous when he sees the needle.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“SHUT UP!” Marinette shouts back, barely holding herself together as she plunges the needle into his thigh and injects the epinephrine.

Felix let’s loose a gasp that tells her his airways are opening again and she heaves herself onto her trembling legs to go towards into an open window for some air of her own.

Emergency services is fast and they’re already lifting a deliriously ranting Felix onto a stretcher, despite his protests.

“No. She tried to kill me. I’m dying. The Marinette girl tried to kill me.” Felix mumbles.

Adrien is an incoherent mass of words himself as he keeps asking if Felix is going to be okay as they carry him away.

Marinette doesn’t know if she wants to cry or laugh when she finds out Gabriel Agreste is out of the country. On the one hand, she almost killed his son. On the other, she was still “dating” his other son.  
—

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It wasn’t your fault. You don’t have to apologize anymore.”

“But I didn’t know he was allergic to nuts.” 

“I didn’t either.” 

Adrien runs his through his hair, agitation clear as he hears the beeping of the EKG and the drip of the IV. His brother looks so much smaller and frailer on the hospital bed, and while he’s been assured that their in the clear, Felix has been sleeping for a while now.

Marinette awkwardly stands in the doorway of the room, clutching an oddly wrapped package to her.

Her eyes are large and worried, glistening with unshed tears as she bites her lip as if to stifle her steady stream of apologies.

‘Thank god.’ Adrien thinks. She’s been apologizing for the past two hours, only stopping when she stepped out to get something as a condolence. Speaking of which…

“What is that you’re holding?” He broaches, half torn between slight anger at the circumstances she had brought and half grateful that she had known what to do when he hadn’t at all.

He doesn’t really know what to think and all potential amusement from the arrangement has been dimmed in the face of this disaster.

Marinette shifts uncomfortably, peeling back the silver cellophane to reveal a small prickly cactus in a pot.

“I bought him uh…a get well cactus.”

Adrien snorts a bit because it’s genuinely a surprise and he finds this girl’s strangeness a refreshing reprieve from his worry. 

She frowns, a look of injured pride leading her to sneer in his direction.

“I don’t want to almost kill him again. I didn’t know if he was allergic to flowers, so I bought him something that wouldn’t have flowers.”

Adrien laughs fully this time. He points to her cactus.

“That species of cactus gives flowers in spring. But it’s prickly like him, so it might just survive his black thumb.” He says this a bit fondly and he cuts off her next apology. “ It’s okay. He’s not allergic to flowers. ”

She seems to wilt in relief, folding in over herself with the force of her sigh.

“I am though.” 

She tenses up immediately and is nearly on her way out the door to chuck the cactus into the nearest trashcan when he stops her.

“I’m joking.” He tells her and his green eyes are welcoming and slightly less sharp as he looks at her.

He decides that he’s teased her enough, and plucks the tiny pot from her hold with ease. He places the pot on the sill of the wide open curtains and smiles a little at the warm sunshine streaming through the glass.

“It livens up the room. It’s nice. Better than last time we were here.” His gaze gets a little distant as something crosses his mind and he glances over his shoulder at his sleeping brother. “He might actually keep it.”

“Is your dad coming?”

That seems to pull him back from where he was drifting. His eyes turn flinty and he says with no small amount of bitterness.

“He can’t make it.”

Marinette’s head is whirling. She can hardly make sense of anything beyond her crushing guilt. Honestly, any chance to meet Gabriel is buried deep beneath genuine concern.

But she has no place here and she can easily cut the false connection she has with this family. She feels like she’s intruding on something very private and Gabriel’s absence feels like something entirely too personal for her to even know about.

Marinette also knows one thing. Adrien Agreste is adorable and a jerk, but he’s not her type. So it’s with some relief that she says-

“I think we need to talk.” 

Adrien’s laugh is warm and sharp. He always seems like he’s surprised to find himself laughing, or maybe that’s just with her. She doesn’t really know what he expects from her, but she’s sure she’s managed to foil every expectation of his in the worst ways.

“You’re breaking up with me already, Bugaboo?”

Marinette grimaces at the nickname, mumbling something like jackass under her breath. She sighs and gestures stiffly between the two of them.

“This…uh charade…why are you doing this? You could have just told Felix the truth, you know?” She seems almost desperate, eyes wide in confusion and pretty in their excitement.

Adrien shoves his hands into his pockets, shrugging at her with a wry grin.

“Because I was bored.” 

For a second, he really believes she’s going to burst into flame. Her eyes burn bright and her jaw clenched in absolute fury. She even seems taller.

But then she breathes through her nose, once…twice and turns on her heel to leave the room.

“Good bye Adrien. See you never.” She punctures this with a lazy salute and he finds himself panicking at the thought of the being left alone in a too white hospital room with his brother hooked up to so many machines and the loneliness is crushing and makes him reach for her.

“Wait!” He calls, his long fingers circling her slim wrist and when she looks pointedly at his grip, he gives himself a hand check, for once looking off kilter.

“Sorry. Sorry. It’s just I ah…” He rubs the back of his neck, unsure of how to articulate anything useful because his thoughts are fluttering things so difficult to grab a hold of. He’s drowning in something terrible. 

And she’s waiting for an explanation, her large eyes piercing with her impatience. 

“I ah…let’s keep the arrangement.” 

“Why?” 

She says it’s simply, without any censure or anger. It’s a deadpan but valid question, but she’s not the stumbling girl of before when she’s in control.

“It’s mutually beneficial.” He tries again, regaining some of his gravitas. Reasoning scrolling through his mind at a faster rate than he can really think about. He usually reserves this level of thought for physics equations and differential problems.

He’s not good with people.

He decides that subterfuge is the only way to protect the little bit of pride he still has. His feelings aren’t to be entirely embroiled into this, but she needs this and he…might find some benefit from this…for a number of complicated reasons that all boil down to issues he has with his life.

But he keeps those thoughts locked up tight behind a silvered tongue.

She begins pacing, hands waving in the air animated as she whisper-hisses her complaints…mainly about his sanity and her bad luck.

“Mutually beneficial? I almost kill your brother and you call this mutually beneficial? What next? I set your house on fire and you propose marriage?” She asks a bit hysterically and the careful veneer of complacency is cracked. 

He can’t help it. He barks a laugh, loud and inelegant as he snorts. She’s a riot and a half, and he has reasons for wanting to keep this going, but he wouldn’t mind her company in the process.

She crosses her arms in frustration, waiting for him to calm down.

He tries to explain in between his giggles.

“Look…You get to meet my father at some point and build the connections you need to be successful in the industry. You don’t even have to spend that much time with me.”

“And what do you get out of this?” She asks dubiously, still not taking the bait.

He knows what he can say to make her agree. And it’ll be such a low blow and half a lie, but he’s a little desperate at the moment. Maybe it’s the cold feeling of the white walls and the antiseptic scent burning his nose that makes him cling to her like this, but something tells him this won’t be a regret.

“I said mutually beneficial right?” 

“You still haven’t answered the question.”

He continues on as if he hadn’t heard her.

“It would be a shame to have your talent wasted. Considering what my father might do when he finds out, you might never be able to find a job in Paris if he blacklists you.” Adrien delivers this with the same frigid demeanor Felix displayed and he’s borrowed his father’s imperious gaze for this.

But he hates himself after when he sees the stricken expression on her face. She’s genuinely frightened and she keeps wringing her hands, her skin pale underneath the harsh fluorescent lighting.

“This feels a little unfair. I still don’t know what you want?” She says quietly.

He frowns quietly and his mind travels to the well-bidden place where his repertoire of shojo anime and Korean dramas rests. He thinks back to something familiar. All the fake dating tropes and decides on a rather cliched, and mostly true reason.

“I’m tired of being chased. Felix takes the brunt of it for me, but when he’s not there, it might be easier to deter attention if I have a girlfriend.” 

It’s her turn to laugh now and he thinks it’s a little lovely, lilting and warm like the golden sunbeams. It colors the room unexpectedly, and he doesn’t find himself as lonely. 

“That’s so dumb. Oh gosh. It’s like a cliched romantic comedy plot. God?! What did I do to deserve this!”

Adrien shrugs sheepishly, content in her relaxation.

She even laughs loud enough to make Felix stir a little, his sleeping face contorting into something of distaste.

“Mmm…yes. That’s the Felix I know.” She points out beyond her laughter. She covers her giggles behind her hands, and Adrien looks at her curiously.

“So…cliched tropes aside, are you in?” 

She gives a small hum of consideration and then tilts her head back and forth as she thinks about it.

Her smile is hard and amused as she stretches out her hand.

“Deal. Except for one condition.” She finally decides. 

His grin nearly splits his face as he slips his hand into her fingers, and he shakes vigorously to seal the deal.

“What condition?” He asks.

“Don’t fall for me.” She answers jokingly and they both laugh at the absurdity of it. 

They both forget the second cliche trope that accompanies fake dating scenarios…falling in love is inevitable when you can fake well enough.

But then again, no regrets, right?

Felix twitches in his sleep, having nightmares of nieces and nephews who ride on bargain bikes and scream like tea kettles.


	4. I can haz a cheez...just a cheez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry everyone that this took to long! Work had been hectic and I'm trying to keep up with responding.
> 
> Thank you so much for reviewing and giving this crack a kudos. I needed something to lighten the mood after election day and so here's the chapter where: Tumblr self defense actually works, nothing too bad happens and a cat finally makes his appareance.

** From: Bugaboo **

_Hi? Not sure how to go about this, but here’s a text so you can save my number. Thanks for giving me yours the other day. Still up for meeting tomorrow for a “date” ?_   
_:P_

_Hope Felix is doing okay._

**To: Bugaboo**

_HIIIIIII!!! XD_

_Felix is doing great actually! Got back from the hospital yesterday. :33_

_And this is awesome! I’m really excited. Thanks for agreeing to this. Also, yep. I can pick you up from your apartment?_

**From: Bugaboo**

_NO! O_o_

_I mean it’s already weird enough that your brother stalked me online to find my address. I’ll meet you at the intersection of Rue Bievenue and Liberte around 8 pm._

**To: Bugaboo**

_Lolololol. Kk. See you tomorrow!_

_Cheer up! Your gonna have fun, paw-mise! :3 Good Night!:)_

**From: Bugaboo**

_First of all… You’re*_

_Second of all,_   
_Omggg. Never do that again. For my sanity. Good night!_

Adrien chuckles as he reads her last message, then quickly exits the messaging app to pull up the Internet browser on his phone.  
  


The dozen different tabs he has open all are variations of the same thing. _Great First Date Ideas, Fun Dates in Paris, What to Wear for A First Date_ with the occasional tab containing cat videos or a physics research paper.  
  
The date ones bring on a new onslaught of anxiety, his laughter sticking thick in his throat until all that comes out is a groan of frustration. He rolls over on his spacious bed, burying his face into his pillow to muffle his frustration.

He doesn’t know why he’s putting in so much effort. This was supposed to be a falsity, something meant to last only until the convenience ended.

But he can’t help but feel a little pressured into making the best of a fourth impression on his first ever first date.

“Fake date. It’s a fake first ever first date.” He reminds himself, grimacing a little at the thought. He’d always imagined his first date ever to be something a bit less prearranged.

He’d meet a girl…on the street, at the market, at a cafe. Perhaps he’d help her pick up the books she dropped or reach for the soup on the highest shelf. And then she’d flash him a bright smile and her eyes…sometimes brown, sometimes blue, sometimes neither…would crinkle at the corners as she laughed at a well placed pun he made.

It would have all been so perfectly accidental.

But again, life hasn’t given him much choice and he takes the chances he can with alacrity.

So here he is, at a complete loss as to what constitutes an appropriate place for a first date and a gift for his fake girlfriend.

He heaves a disappointed sigh, rolling up the sleeves of his white collared shirt over and over in agitation. The oversized digital clock in his old childhood room shows that it’s only 8pm on a Friday night. He feels a false sense of security when he sees that he has about twenty four hours to decide where to take Marinette for their first date.

Felix walks in at that moment, looking much better after his stay at the hospital. He still has some redness creeping down his throat, but he seems well enough that the usual look of condescension has taken its rightful place back on his pretty face.

He’s dressed casually in a gray sweater and dark pants. Adrien can’t help but feel a sense of relief. His brother is fine. He’s here in the room, in regular clothes and not a thin hospital gown.

Felix would probably make fun of Adrien for putting so much effort into what he had told Felix was his twelfth official date with Marinette.

The lie had come so easily, flying from between his laughing mouth in just the right tone to calm Felix’s suspicions.

And that just might all come undone with the nervousness so clear across Adrien’s expression.

“You seem as if you are at an impasse, Adrien. What’s wrong?”

Felix’s eyes swim with something akin to concern, but it’s it’s a little hard to find it underneath the usual gray apathy.

Adrien knows that Felix means well, but he feels a little self conscious when his brother’s infamous derision is turned on him. A bit defensively, he sits up, shrugging his shoulders as he does.

“Nothing important…just can’t think of a good place for a date or gift to get Marinette.”

Felix’s expression darkens for reasons Adrien can’t really fathom. It’s not hard to tell that Felix doesn’t think much of Marinette. But Adrien is grateful when his brother seems to swallow down any derisive comment and actually offers advice.

“Girls like cats, I suppose? Why not something to do with cats…baby cats especially. I’ve heard they are quite popular with young women.”

Adrien wants to laugh. It might be a horrible thing to think, but with his cheeks flushed red and a look of pained concentration, Felix looks like he’s having an allergic reaction all over again.

He buries his slight laughter, until all that is left is a small quirk of his lips. It grows larger when he considers Felix’s suggestion.

Cats…cats…baby cats.

The idea comes fairly quickly, snapping into alignment into the part of his brain newly cleared out for things related to dating.

“You always sound like an awkward Wikipedia page, Felix, but you really do come up with the best ideas! Thanks!”

He rolls off of his bed, springing up and passing by Felix to plop himself on his desk chair and begin planning what he has in mind.

He misses the look of slightly disheartened smugness on his brother’s face as Adrien unknowingly leaves Felix hanging.

Felix quickly grumbles out something unintelligible, stuffing his incomplete high five into his pockets. He makes his way out of the room, grumbling all the way until Adrien calls his name.

He looks over at his brother. Adrien is twisted around on the wheeled chair and there’s humor in his green eyes. He has his right hand raised and pushes it forward in a vague motion.

“Air high five?” Adrien quips.

Felix will not sink to his level. His lips curl into a familiar sneer and with a withering look at his brother, walks out the door. His steps are hounded by Adrien’s laughter, but he can’t help but feel a certain pride.

Petty revenge is good and all, but helping Adrien tends to bring with it more small happiness than even that. It’s Felix’s best kept secret.

* * *

 

There are many things Marinette fears. There are many of her fears that are perfectly justifiable. The problem comes when her more than vivid imagination brings those fears to life.

It’s early for a summer evening and the meeting place she suggested isn’t necessarily in the best part of pretty Paris.   
The sun has already set and the dark is illuminated by the occasional street lamp and the glow of the few businesses that are still open.

So she waits in her lacy blue sundress and soft white cardigan with nervous glances all around. She clutches her purse closer to her chest, occasionally looking inside the nearby hair salon to make sure the owner is within reasonable shouting distance.

Maybe it’s a bit silly to worry so much, but the street is fairly empty and the graffiti in the alley behind her seems more ominous under the long shadows of the buildings.

To calm herself, she glances at the last few texts she had exchanged with Adrien this morning.

**From: Adrien Pain-drien**

**GOOD MORNING HONEYBUN!**

_Okay. Here’s the game plan. When we meet, please actually try and pretend your happy to see me…act lovey dovey._

**To: Adrien Pain-drien**

_You’re*_

_I’m gagging…please don’t do that ever again._

_Also… lovey dovey? Like hug you? Or what? Please not kissing. I can barely stand the fact that I’ve sunk so low as to fake date someone, much less fake kiss._

**From: Adrien Pain-drien**

_EXACTLY. HUGS AND PET NAMES ARE PERFECT. No kissing. That’s fine._

**To: Adrien Pain-drien**

_Why are u shouting? I’m already getting a headache._

_NO PET NAMES !!!_

**From: Adrien Pain-drien**

_ YOU'RE SHOUTING TOO. _

_Sorry. Just really excited. This is my first date._

**To: Adrien Pain-drien**

_Wait?! Like first date ever?!!!!_

**From: Adrien Pain-drien**

_Uhhh…first fake date ever…of course I’ve been on dates before_

_(Sweats nervously)_

**To: Adrien Pain-drien**

_I’m getting a full explanation as soon as you’re here…and why the hell would you type out you’re action, you dweeb?!_

**From: Adrien Pain-drien**

_Your*_   
_:3_

_And d_ espite the silliness of it all, Marinette finds a reluctant smile curling her lips. She thought further contact with Adrien after their deal would have been awkward at best and painful at worst. But texting seemed to give her a comfortable enough distance where she didn’t have to look into his piercing green eyes and she could speak her mind more openly.

He’s funny, she grudgingly admits to herself. Beyond his penchant for puns, his affection for Felix, and that he studies physics, she doesn’t know much more about him.

A quick Google search hadn’t given her much besides the fact that he and Felix had previously been models. The Agreste sons were perfectly scandal free and relatively boring.

So it’s now that she tries to pick up some more context clues, breaking down Adrien’s texts with practiced precision.

She’s so engrossed in reading their exchange that she isn’t prepared for the arm that winds it’s way around her waist and the warm breath that ghosts her ear as she’s pulled towards a solid frame.

She screams.

And Marinette’s panic is all that drives her as she pulls one of her arms free and whirls around to deliver a blow to the man’s face.

Whatever he was about to say is cut off by a fleshy thump as her fist makes contact. He lets her go with a loud shout.

But Marinette won’t take any chances. She recalls a self defense post on a blogging website and prepares herself to bring up a knee in between the man’s legs .

“Owwwwww!” He shouts as he clutches his face in his hands. “Fuck.”

Thankfully, she finally realizes that the voice shouting expletives is familiar.

Her knee stops just inches from Adrien’s abused body and she steps away in horror at what she’s done. Her hands come to cover her mouth in shock…her whimpers quiet in the face of his muffled curses.

And three things cross her mind in this moment.

Self defense blog posts can save lives.  
Adrien’s eyes are pretty when they shine with tears

And three,

“HOLY SHIT?! I’M SO SORRY?! DID I BREAK YOU?! ARE YOU OKAY?! I know CPR!” She screeches as she rushes forward to help him.

Adrien is still holding the sleeve of his gray sweater over his injured eye. He peers at her with watery pain.

She doesn’t whether to thank or curse the heavens that no one in the neighboring building seemed to have noticed the debacle.

She takes a hesitant step towards him, but he flinches and shakes his head.

“Just hold on…I think…it’s getting bearable.” He explains. He removes his hands with a hiss, jaw clenched with the strain.

Marinette gasps as she catches sight of her handiwork.

The entirety of his eyelid and the surrounding area is an ugly pinkish purple, tiny blood vessels spotting the white of his cornea.

“I’m so so sorry. I can’t believe…I just…oh my god. I’m so stupid…really, I’m really really sorry.”

His look of pain is supplanted by something much softer as he gazes at her with his good eye.

“You have a hell of right hook, Buginette. Although, I don’t think CPR would help out much.”

Marinette’s hands are still flapping uselessly in front of her. Her babbling is the only answer he’s getting out of her.

“I just…oh god, I’m still really sorry. We should get you some ice. Oh god, please I just hope it’s not permanent. Your face is too pretty for that.” She rattles on, face flushing and mouth stopping when she realizes what she just said.

His eyes for a fraction before he winces at the action. His laughter is warm and genuine as he realizes what she’s just said.

“Glad you’re looking out for me…or at least a part of me, My Lady.”

It does the trick. The worry falls off her face, almost comically. It’s replaced with a look of faint disgust, her tongue sticking out childishly.

“Gross.” She says, but still matter-of-factly laces her arm through his and tugs. “Let’s go get you some ice.”

“We…uh…actually, we can get some at the place I made our reservation at.”

She gives him a look of surprise, concern evident in her face.

“It’s not pricey…it’s just, more of a novelty than anything. Plus your present is there too.”

“Wha-’

“Uh-uh. No spoilers.” He chides and pulls her along.

He glances up at the inky sky briefly, the soft lights of Paris edging his view until all he can make out is the silvery crescent of the moon cutting sharply through the night. It’s maddening Cheshire grin mimics his own and he wonders if it’s laughing with him or at him.

* * *

  
Marinette can feel the twitch in her eye developing. Her hands are fisted into the skirt of her dress. Incredulity is all she feels at the moment as she stares long and hard at the pastel pink signage.

“A…a cat cafe?!”

Adrien winces at her tone. And then he winces at the pain that lances through his eye and then he stops himself from wincing a third time.

Disappointment threatens to overtake his thoughts, but he notices that she’s more surprised than unsatisfied. So he pushes down the usual mantra of what a dumb person he is and offers his date a brilliant smile.

“Are you not a-mew-sed? It’s such a purrfectly great place for a date.”  
  
Her gaze sharpens,   
and she looks thoroughly unamused. She unthreads her arm from his and brings up slightly frigid fingers to massage her temples.

“Let me get this straight. You want our first date to be at a cat cafe? I mean this is the kind of obscure novelty place an anime weeb might come visit.”

“I actually prefer the term otaku.” He smiles. And he has the audacity to say this proudly.

“Oh my god…” Marinette whispers in horror, shaking her head as she pulls open the door. A sickeningly sweet bell tinkles it’s welcome, and the sheer cuteness of the establishment plucks all the acerbic remarks from her tongue.

The cafe is frightfully cute. Every round little table is fitted with lace doilies and the chairs are topped with plush green cushions. There’s an old upright piano topped with a real gray tabby and a fat calico. The chatter of the customers is punctuated with laughter and the occasional coos of excitement.

A kind auburn haired hostess comes towards them, her brown eyes widening as she catches sight of Adrien’s black eye.

“Oh dear! Oh no! Sir, are you alright?” She asks, the alarm in her voice makes Marinette’s guilt tighten like a vice in her gut.

Adrien chuckles, threading his arm through Marinette’s again and leads her forward.

“Good evening. Some ice would be great. And we have reservations under Adrien Agreste.”

The hostess practically trips over herself when she hears the name. Her eyes are wide and a tendril of curly hair slips from her bun as she titters for a bit before grabbing two menus and leading them into the spacious cafe.

“I’ll get you the ice right away, uh M. Agreste! Please have a seat and oh dear, the cats are all lovely and will come on their own time to your table.”

Her smile is slightly hysterical as she excuses herself.

Marinette looks after the girl’s teetering exit with pity.

“Poor thing. Your last name really isn’t fair to us common folk. Especially when you use it to pull your weight and make people agree to a ridiculous fake dating plan.” She muses and then gestures at the blooming purple bruise over his eye. “Maybe this is recompense?”

“Oh god. I’m so sorry if what I said came off as a threat or pulling my weight? But i was just really-”

“Desperate? Sad? Hopeless? Forever alone?”

Adrien does look sincerely apologetic, peering at her with sheepish earnestness.

“All of the above?” He suggests.

“Yep. Definitely recompense.” She nods sagely. “We’re good for now.”

The hostess eventually comes back with the ice and a notepad. He presses it gingerly to his black eye, and winces when he laughs too hard.

  
His humor becomes looser, his smile wider as he realizes he’s been forgiven. Marinette hides her reluctant laughter behind her menu, occasionally perusing the choices to keep herself from staring too much at his pretty green eyes.

“Okay, but please tell me you have a black belt in judo or something? That you had special training with monks somewhere in a hidden mountain temple? Come on, give me something to work with so I don’t look wimpy if people ask what happened.”

He looks positively desolate, but there’s that same good humor sparking in his eyes and Marinette finds herself laughing with relief. Adrien has had immeasurable patience with her, and his ridiculous notions are starting to grow on her.

She tilts her head side to side, contemplating her situation. A sharp smile curls her lips, and she finds herself growing comfortable.

“I did ballet in primary school…does that help you regain your manly reputation?”

He takes a moment, taps his chin and decides with a silly grin that yes, this is indeed more than enough of a claim to badassery.

"Okay...now speaking of claims to badassery, how is this your first date ever?" Marinette veers skillfully onto the question that had been hoisted to a position of honor in her mind.

"Uh...I just never got around to it?" He says placidly, fidgeting adorably with the edge of the table cloth. "It's never been something I was ahh...good at?"

Marinette blinks owlishly at him, lips parted in an oh of confusion.

"But you're...you're Gabriel Agreste's son? How? I mean you've managed to avoid any scandals and the media doesn't seem to be too invested in your boring undergraduate career, but never dated?" She says, complete incredulity etched between her brows.

"I'm still an innocent boy, Buginette. It's part of my charm." He winks at her, still edging on humor to dispel the slight embarassment he feels.

She's more astute than he gives her credit for. She notices the strain in his jaw and the little bit of hunching he does.

She feels her own anxiety well up in response, and she feels like too much teasing might end up hurting Adrien more than helping.

Marinette smiles softly and shrugs.

"Charm....okay I'll let you have that." She pauses. "I just made a dumb assumption, but it seems like even Felix doesn't date much. I'm sorry your first date is this contrived mess we've agreed to, but since it's consensual, so no regrets. Right?"

The change in Adrien is dizzying and fast. He's languid again. He's smiling easily again.

“Yes! Absolutely no regrets!" He cheers. "Now that that's settled, bring on the cats!"

His gaze settles on a particularly round cream colored cat, nestled close to their table in a wicker basket on the floor.

Marinette is not prepared for when he slides out of his chair, onto his knees and proceeds to meow spectacularly at the indifferent Persian cat.

A few of the patrons give them funny looks, a few smile in agreement, as if they too meowed to cats on a daily basis.

Marinette struggles to maintain her laughter, but a few snorts slip out from underneath her fingers and she  
Is none too apologetic when Adrien shoots her a dirty look. She also notes that the cats seems to congregate around the guests with the most treats to offer or the brightest toys to play.

“I think we should order our food, first? And maybe get a few cat treats off the menu.” She suggests through her giggles, still reeling from how she’d gotten into this position.

Her date looks somewhat mollified as he gives one last longing look at the proud Persian cat and then seats himself on his chair.

“Let’s order lots of treats. Lots of them.” He says with an uncanny determination.

Marinette simply laughs again. The humor of the situation and the quaintess of the cafe coalesces into a delightful warmth that threads from her toes to her head.

And Adrien feels another bit of words lodge in his throat as he realizes just how pretty his not-girlfriend is.

* * *

 

The rest of the date is spent in relative small talk. There’s banter and a careful hesitancy through it all.

They joke, yes. But Marinette is still wary of the Agrestes and still somewhat apologetic about the trouble she’s caused them.

And Adrien is very, very good at changing the subject. But not good enough to escape her shrewd notice. She doesn’t press on those avenues of conversation, choosing instead to let the laughter of earlier guide their remaining time together.

The cats are a wonderful addition, and it’s only five minutes after she’s received her order of a hearty pasta topped with lots of cheese that she notices one peculiar little cat that hangs around their table.

It’s a small thing, with glossy black fur and wide green eyes blinking up at her with curiosity and wariness.

Adrien notices him too, and swiftly plops down the Russian Blue he’d had on his lap, in favor of meowing pathetically to the interested black one.

He offers him one of the fish treats, only to be met with a slow blink of consternation and a twitching tail. He then tries to lure the cat with one of the feathery toys, but is met with a half hearted swipe.

The cat retreats further away from Adrien, and closer to Marinette’s legs.

She smiles fondly and grabs a bit of her cat-safe pasta and offers him a piece.

The change is instant. The cat gobbles up the offering from her hand with a lusty mewl. Marinette gives a small oh of surprise when the cat jumps up onto her lap and kneads his paws on her skirt. The purr he emits is loud and heard by even a petulant Adrien.

“It was that easy? Just cheese and pasta?!” He pouts, and then relents with a small fond smile in her direction.

Marinette is happily rubbing the affectionate cat’s head and scratching behind its ears.

“OH god…I think he’s my favorite.” She breathes as the cat meows plaintively at her and proceeds to butt her hand again. “I think he wants more.”

The offered pasta is again eaten with gusto, much to Marinette’s delight.

Adrien has a slightly smug look as he laughs again.

“See, this wasn’t such a bad idea. Was it?”

She shoots him a sharp glance over the table as she cradles the cat closer to her. Her eyes are large and so blue and bright, fringed with thick lashes.

He feels that same strange thing in his throat from earlier and he has to cough his surprise into his napkin when she smiles brilliantly at him.

“You were right. This was wonderful. Thank you so much, Adrien.” She agrees, before turning back to the cat.

They leave without much fanfare. The hostess from earlier is sweet and polite as she tells Adrien to take care of his injury and wishes Marinette well.

The two stand outside the cafe, the night is temperate and now there’s not much to distract them from the deeper parts of conversation.

Marinette is poised to ask something before Adrien startles, and apologizes.

“I left something inside. Wait here, please.”  
Before she can respond, he’s already gone back inside and the sweet tinkling bell seems to scream in confusion at his abrupt departure.

She can’t see him beyond the entrance and she taps her feet and checks her phone while she waits, the warm pools of light from the street lamps are comforting.

Adrien comes back not ten minutes later, a small white box wrapped with red ribbon is cradled delicately in his arms.

Marinette tilts her head in confusion, gesturing wordlessly.

Adrien merely offers her the box with a self pleased smile spread wide across his face. His green eyes shine with mischief and he reminds her of the little black cat.

“Go on. Take it. It’s your present.”

“But…but I didn’t get you anything? I can’t accept this.” She begins to complain, but he merely pushes past her waving hands and places the box squarely in her arms.

“You got me the chocolates. We’re even.”

She’s too distracted by the scrabbling inside the box, slight breathlessness ss she looks between Adrien and the box several times.

“You…you didn’t?”

“I did.” He cheers.

And he did.

As soon as she lifts the lid, out pops a lovely black little head with large green eyes gazing at her curiously.

“Do you…do you like it?”

Adrien’s smile is sheepish and excited. It promptly falls into dismay when Marinette bursts into tears.

She holds the box close and the little cat begins a plaintive series of mews. The two cries play a melancholy concert for him.

“I..Im so sorry.” He tries to edge in another apology, but she furiously shakes her head and launches herself and the cat at a very confused Adrien.

She sobs onto his shirt, and he can feel the damp mix strangely with the tickling of the cat’s whiskers as it remains wedged comfortable between them.

It’s a few moments later that he gets a coherent response from her. She pulls away from his awkward embrace, smiling apologetically as she wipes away the remaining tears. He holds the cat in his arms, struggling to hold the squirming thing as it reaches for her.

“Thank you. He’s amazing, but…but…” She says in a watery voice, cradling the cat close with a yearning look. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry for crying. It’s just after everything, you’re still really nice, and I’ve had a stressful week, and he reminds me of my old family cat. She died last year.”

Adrien is somewhat relieved that it hadn’t been entirely his fault. He really didn’t know what to expect next from Marinette’s vault of feelings, but he sincerely hoped there were no more tears.

“I uh…I’m sorry for your loss. But he’s yours now.” He holds out the mewling creature to her. And adds thoughtfully “ And he really likes you.”

Marinette gratefully looks up at Adrien as she accepts her gift.

“Thank you so much. For everything.”

Adrien waves her off.

“It’s uh…mutually beneficial, remember? Besides, you’ll have to keep up your end of the bargain in a more crowded setting sometime soon.”

His voice is a little flat as he says this. As though he’s doubtful of the veracity of his own words. He’s tired and he’s laughed a fair bit tonight, but his black eye is starting to throb.

She’s still looking at him with those pretty blue eyes though, and he has to clear his throat again before he offers to walk her home.

She surprisingly accepts, despite her earlier reluctance to have him pick her up and the conversation picks up on small things again. Things like what her parents do for a living and what he likes to eat for dessert and what she likes to watch on television.

It’s a nice way to end the evening, but there’s a bit of strangeness at the end when Marinette clutches the cat close to her and seems to teeter on her feet for a bit.

She bites her lips and her gaze shifts erratically from Adrien to her apartment building before determination settles into her expression.

The blue in her eyes is dark and decided as she punctuates her goodbye with a swift kiss to his healthy cheek.

He has no time to say anything else before she’s run off, cat in her arms and skirt swaying joyfully around her legs.

Adrien feels a bitter loneliness stir in his gut when she walks through the gate of her apartment with a hearty wave and a purring cat.

It’s a warm summer night, but he feels a little cold under the moon that laughs at him.

* * *

 

He’s surprised early the next morning when he is told by Natalie that he has a guest waiting for him in the parlor.

He’s still dressed in his casual gray sweats and a black shirt as he descends. He’s taking advantage if his father’s absence to loosen his decorum, and he manages to feel all the ache of regret when he sees his lovely not-girlfriend perched delicately on a high backed chair.

She’s wearing a lacey white dress, her hair shoved neatly into shiny black twin tails.

And sitting smack dab on her lap, leaving little glossy black hair everywhere on her dress is the cat.

“M-marinette?” He stutters out, the memory of her lips on his cheek had been played on loop last night. And he’d found it difficult to fall asleep.

And so here she was, solid and as pretty as a dream in the sunshine that illuminated the otherwise dark parlor.

(Really, his father had great taste in fashion but a shitty, almost cartoon villain type taste in home decor.)

She doesn’t look much better than he felt, expression wise. Her eyes are downcast and she was doing that odd pursing of her lips he’d barely come to recognize as an attempt to stave off tears.

The cat gamboles contently in her lap, pawing at the strands of hair that fell over her shoulders. She absently rubs his head, blinking suddenly when she notices that Adrien has called her.

Before he can speak again, she scoops up the cat gently, and holds it out him.

“I’m…I’m so sorry. I love him. I really do, but I can’t keep him.” She mutters, still looking on the verge of tears.

Adrien is unsure what to do next, only that he can't let the cat slip out of her now precarious hold and he takes it gingerly from her.

He feels a sting of hurt. It feels a lot like rejection and it’s something he’s gotten used to in most areas of his life, but he’s fairly inexperienced in this area…even if it’s all fake, it feels crushing and real in this moment.

She seems to notice the pain in his expression though and falls into the Marinette way of apology…complete with waving arms and a word salad.

“Oh gosh no, I love him and thank you so much for him.and your eye looks a lot worse today, but oh gosh, it’s just that I can’t keep him because I just learned yesterday that there are no pets allowed and my manager threatened to kick me out if I kept him and oh god, he must hate me now. He probably thinks I’m abandoning him and I’m so sorry, but can you please take care of him.”

She pauses for a bit, take a deep breath and is about to speak again, before she finds a slim finger on her lips.

“Shhh.. calm down. It’s fine. I understand. He'll be here and you can visit him whenever you want." He smiles broadly, and the relief of this not being a rejection floods his beautiful face with its usual light and humor.

“Oh…” She breathes against his finger. “Oh”

She seems to sag with relief, her shoulder lowering from her ears and her face flushing with embarassment as Adrien sheepishly removes his digit and adjusts his hold on a finally settled cat.

Speaking of which, he wondered what she’d decided to-

“Oh thank god. Felix still has a home.” She cheers and then slaps her hands over her mouth when she realizes what she’s just done. “Oh crap, it just slipped out. But the name was too perfect and he’s going to kill me. Oh god he’s going to kill me.”

Adrien’s laughter is loud and inelegant as he hold Felix the cat with one arm and places a good natured pat on Marinette’s shoulder.

“You’re so lucky he’s at a photo shoot right now. Felix is such a good name though.”

And when he says Felix out loud, the cat turns to him and swipes playfully at his chin.

Marinette bursts into peals of laughter because the cat answers to Felix now and there’s nothing to be done about that.

The golden morning falls into a wonderful little joke shared between a boy, a girl and a cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH Thank you for reading. I PROMISE plaggs name will come up, it's just a plot point.


	5. I don't always make friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But when I do, I make sure to give them a bodily injury to remember me by. -Adrien Agreste as the Most Interesting Man in The World

When Gabriel Agreste comes home, it is without much fanfare...typically.

The night will fall, the dark tracing delicately across every corner of the Agreste home. Maybe finding itself a little threatened by the warm light dripping out from underneath the crack of Adrien’s door. (Never Felix’s. He sleeps strictly at 9:30 PM, sleeping mask and all.)But besides that, there isn't a sound.

The morning will bring with it the day’s newspaper, a few fashion magazines, and perhaps one or two of the local tabloids all piled on the dining table in alphabetical order.

Adrien's always been glad of his father’s reading habits, as it put up a healthy buffer between the two of them. Gave Adrien enough time to anticipate today's interrogation and come up with satisfying answers that aren't quite the truth.

This time, when Gabriel Agreste comes home, there's a yell and a yowl from the north wing of the house. Followed by a series of somewhat impressive expletives.

Adrien opens his door and peers out, just in time for one of the long shadows in the hall to break away and streak into his room. Felix (the cat) has wedged himself in the thin space between Adrien’s bed and his night stand.

There's also the quick patter of bare feet against the aged wood floor becoming louder.

If his father hadn't come into view two seconds later, Adrien would have clocked the unknown intruder in the face. As it is, the sight of his father, panting and sweating, still dressed in his red pants and cream tailored suit jacket, strikes Adrien breathless with surprise.

“D-dad?”

The face that stares back at him is horrifyingly red and glowing with sweat in the golden light that pools out from his room.

The usually calm, chiseled jaw is working itself in a fury to say something coherent beyond the usual expletives.  
Adrien finally takes this moment to glance down at his father’s legs, where all that remained of his father’s signature pants were a couple of hanging scraps of fabric, artfully displaying Gabriel’s pale calves. They were scored through with shallow scratches.

It takes Gabriel a moment of pure restraint to take a deep breath and level his voice.

“Adrien...that cat. Where did it come from?”

Adrien really hadn't factored in his father's reaction to keeping Felix the cat. He'd supposed he could keep him hidden well enough for a while. His father was never home and the house was big enough for someone to get lost in. It shouldn't have been that hard.

But ever since Marinette came into his life, he's been finding that his luck has devolved into a series of close calls. This time, they're might not be any call to make when Gabriel’s eyes look so flinty, they could cut through any web of lies Adrien can try and weave in this moment.

“Apologies, Father. The cat belongs to me.” Felix (the brother) seems to coalesce from the shadows himself, wrapped in gunmetal gray silk pajamas, his sleeping mask pushed over his unusually messy hair.

Adrien shivers. His brother does not look amused...except, he notices the slight edges of Felix’s mouth curl the slightest bit, his gray eyes are impassive, but they shine with amusement as he takes in Gabriel’s ruined pants.

Gabriel asks for an explanation and Adrien is almost entirely forgotten when Felix spews out the most amazing dribble of a story.

“He reminded me of the stories Mother used to tell me about her own black cat...remember, the one named Pancake? I simply saw the poor little stray and he looked exactly as I'd always imagined Pancake..and so on a whim, I brought him home...I didn't think he'd find his way into your room. I'm sorry.”

At the mention of Mother, Adrien feels his heart twist in his chest and sink to his feet. He's almost sure the same thing is happening to his father, because even Gabriel’s cold expression falls and he looks contemplative.

“I see...make sure this doesn't happen again.”

Felix’s expression remains carefully neutral as he nods.

“Yes Father...and welcome home.”

“Well then...goodnight to the both of you.”

“Goodnight.” Adrien and Felix say in concert, both of them wincing at how lame it sounded. Adrien watches on as Gabriel makes his way back down the hallway and it may be his imagination, but his father looks a lot more off balance than usual. But that always happened whenever someone mentioned Mom.

The sadness that clings onto their house is a lot less vulnerable to light than the dark...Adrien thinks it's a shame that Marinette isn't around to distract him with another mishap.  
\---

Felix stays behind for a bit. Sleep is a difficult thing for him to piece together once it's been broken. He stays in Adrien’s room, sprawled across the messy bed as he stares up at the glow in the dark stars that Adrien had stuck there over a decade ago.

“I don't remember that story about Mom’s cat?” Adrien points out as he absentmindedly pets the cat currently purring on his lap, perfectly content with the events of the night.

“That's because it wasn't a cat. It was a hamster.”

“Oh...well...I don't remember her talking about a hamster named Pancake?”

“That's because I named it Pancake after the story.”

“Why did you call it Pancake?” Adrien sighs, finally looking up at his brother from desk chair. “Did you just basically lie to Dad for me?”

Felix fixes his gaze on the stars, his fingers flat against the green duvet as he thinks for a moment.

“I named the hamster Pancake because Mom accidentally ran him over. And not for you.”

Adrien rolls his eyes, but a grin tugs at his mouth and he feels affection for his older brother swell in his chest until his heart is bobbing up and down again.

“Of course not for me. It was for the cat.”

Felix closes his eyes and smiles for once.

“Yes, the cat. He did me a favor by destroying one of Father’s hideous pairs of red pants. So, I paid him in kind.”

“Well, Felix really appreciates it.”

Annoyance lances across Felix’s serene expression and his gray eyes snap open to glare at a laughing Adrien.

“The fact that your girlfriend gave him my name is bad enough. The fact that the cat itself feels entitled to the same privileges as me because of said name cannot go unattended. He's become a plague on my peaceful lifestyle, Adrien.”

“Sure...sure.” Adrien chuckles, rubbing his cheek against the cat’s soft fur. “You're such a plague on this household...such a cute little plague.”

Felix’s annoyance turns to satisfaction when he pulls out a fish shaped biscuit from his pocket and calls out in the most beguiling voice. “Come here Plague...come here...come get your treat.”

The cat is a simple creature. Names are things that do not matter to cats. What matters most is what comes attached to the name, and currently, a treat is being offered with the name Plague...the cat thinks it's a great bargain and it leaps off of Adrien’s lap and prances up to Felix and the biscuit with a meow of satisfaction.

“There...he likes his new name.” Felix says with finality, and Adrien watches in awe as his brother actually nuzzles his face into Plague’s fur.

“Fine...but I'm renaming your cactus Felix.” Adrien quips. He stifles his laughter behind his hands when Felix glares at him.

Adrien thinks that moments like this are the ones that deserve to have a little light shone on them.

\---  
For an arrangement so hastily made and with an equally hasty excuse, this fake dating thing is surprisingly mellow. She’s been waiting on tenterhooks, waking up way before her usual alarm just because her anxiety has rendered her incapable of sleep.

She had tried hinting at Adrien, prodding him with a thinly veiled calm about just when she should uphold her end of the bargain. One cute date at a relatively obscure cat cafe does not seem like the most efficient way to spread the word about a relationship. Even if it a fake one.

And then it happens. Adrien makes an attempt to uphold his end of this haphazard deal of theirs. She’s glad he told her through text, because her knees are trembling and she has to sit down on her bed to reread his text message.

From: Adrien Paindrien

Hey...ummm...my father’s home. He’s invited you to dinner. Would Friday night work?

I'm sorry. I didn't think you would have to meet him this soon...if it helps, you can bring samples of your work?

Her hands are clammy. Her fingers too cold and leaving gross sweaty prints on the screen of her phone as she types out several different replies and then deletes them without sending.

This is her opportunity. But she hadn't expected it to be so abrupt or unplanned. She wonders if Adrien knows anything about decorum or how not to look desperate...because she's sure if they're going to keep up this charade, she cannot come off as a girl selfish enough to use her boyfriend as a stepping stone to opportunity.

Her stomach is twisting into knots, a veritable Ouroboros of an organ as it feels like it's digesting itself and taking the rest of her organs with it.

The window is open, a slightly muggy breeze blows past her gauzy white curtains and whispers across the loose strands of air falling from her bun.

She heaves a breath, letting the scents of the city ground her. She decides to take things slow. She figures that her first method of introducing her work would be best.

With that, her anxiety lessens a smidgen, and she texts back with more confidence than she feels.

“Sure. Friday is perfect.”  
\---

The week passes by with a cheerful alacrity that's not very welcoming. Marinette clings onto the days with sheer determination, still casting disappointed glances at the last minute gifts she'd decided to work on.

All three of them are nearly done. A few spools of fine silk thread and several square feet of expensive creamy fabric had gone into making these. The last of them is still stretched across the embroidery hoop, a short strand of black thread marking where she'd left off in her work.

“It's all wrong.” She cries out to Tikki, who sits nestled in the middle of a droopy cosmos, probably gorging herself on the fat aphids common this time of year.

She traces the expertly stitched patterns on Adrien’s embroiders handkerchief, lets her fingertips linger on the raised emerald of the black cat’s knowing eyes.

“Maybe this isn't thoughtful enough? I don't know much about any of them.” She picks at a few fraying threads, wondering if she should just order a fruit arrangement and call it a day.

The memory of a red, puffy faced Felix being rushed to the hospital instantly negates the thought. She'd rather not expose them to another potential allergen.

These little tokens of gratitude and well wishing have to be enough. Her tired fingers and less-than-ideal point work will have to be enough.

It's a matter of pride that she gains recognition by her own effort, and it's with an apologetic smile that she sticks to her guns and texts Adrien.

“I’m still coming, but I don't need your help.”

\---  
It's raining when he comes to pick her up. His face is contorted into an anxious grimace, his fingers twisting together in his lap as Gorilla parks the car cross the street from of her apartment.

The water dashes against the windows, cold and marking time in a way that's sort of pretty and sort of melancholy.

He'd been so excited to have her meet his father. In some ways, it felt almost real. If he let himself believe in her smiles and their newly established friendship, perhaps this could almost be a pleasant thing.

The truth of the matter is that he's lonely. And he had been selfish to pull Marinette into something like this arrangement, even when she'd been the one to lie first. And then she’d sent her cryptic text message

“I don't need your help.”

The problem with texting is that it's hard to read someone's tone. He'd sent her sporadic messages after that, receiving the usual cheerfully chagrined responses. She'd acted like nothing had changed, but her words echoed in his head until he couldn't think about anything but that for the next three days.

Even his father’s ever looming presence had faded back into the numerous shadows that plagued (haha) the Agreste home.

Adrien has had very few people he can call friends, much less close friends. There isn't anyone besides Felix he can ask for advice, and Felix would have kittens if he knew just how transactional his relationship with Marinette actually was.

Regardless, there's a harrowing mixture of relief and anxiety that wells up in his chest, and he's not sure if it's that or the lovely gauzy red dress she wears that steals his breath.

She stands under the awning stretched out over the entrance of the apartment complex, her trench coat is fashionably wide open, the edges flapping softly in the wind. Her dark hair is down, spiraling delicately across the tops of her shoulders. And her lovely face is contorted into an expression of worry as she eyes the rainy skies disdainfully.

She reminds him very much of Plague. Precious, preening, scared and angry at the rain for threatening to ruin their pretty coats.

Her arms are full with three gift bags, and his stomach lurches with fear at what they might contain.

Still, he's a gentleman by training and a kind person by his very nature, so he doesn't think much as he grabs his trusty old battered umbrella, and rushes across the empty street to offer her portable shelter. He doesn't open it right away, not really caring if his nice green sweater and collared shirt get a little wet.

“Your knight in shining armor is here, My Lady.” He calls sweetly, and her glare turns from the sky towards him, but it's softened by the bemused smile she graces him with.

“You sound like one of those guys online who wear fedoras and complain that girls won't fall for them because they're nice guys.”

He winces a bit, but takes it all in stride, brandishing his umbrella playfully as he steps under the awning with her.

“I'm not that bad.” He says plaintively, and the playful pout on his lips makes her think that the world really isn't fair because some people get everything.

She looks down at her brown ankle boots, little droplets of rain bouncing off of them harmlessly.

“No...you're not that bad.” She says quietly, warmly.

When she looks up at him again, her smile is earnest. Her eyes large and soft.

He swallows thickly. He thinks the world really isn't fair because Marinette is everything he could fall for, and...this isn't real.

They could barely be termed friends and any friendship they could build would be marred by this silly farce he proposed because he'd been so lonely and bored.

He hadn't lied when he told her he was bored...but he hadn't meant it in the way she'd taken it. Marinette was vibrant, silly, ambitious...things he used to be...a long time ago.

So his thoughts are a bit scattered when he holds out his umbrella to her, and accidentally presses the button.

There's a brief metallic swish sound, the old rusted handle groaning as it angrily shoots out to full length and punches Marinette squarely in the nose.

“OW SHIT!” Marinette yells in pain.

“OH FUCK!” Adrien yells in horror, dropping the umbrella. “DID IT HURT YOU?”

“No! It FREAKING tickled!”

She's dropped all her bags in favor of cupping her nose. Adrien tries to get close, but she shakes her head and winces, waving him away.

“I'm fine. Just...owww...just let me deal with it.” She tells him in a nasally tone. She drops her hands and presses the bridge of her nose. “The presents...they shouldn't get wet!”

A trickle of blood has made its way from her nostril, and Adrien panics as he bends down to retrieve the sodden gift bags from the ground...at the same time that she does.

He gathers up two. She gathers up one, and he stands up way too fast, knocking his head into chin and he ends up biting his lip.

He lets out a hiss and his eyes water in pain as she starts apologizing. He waves her off, and is finally able to speak after a moment or two.

“You're still bleeding.”

“It's slowing down.” She says, looking ridiculous as she tilts her nose up and keeps pressing on it.

He clicks his tongue in disapproval and then decides that that was stupid because it's still sore. But regardless, he's sort of irked by her sudden push for independence.

He hangs the bags off of one arm, and uses one hand to gently cradle her face. She protests weakly, but she's too caught up in his proximity.

Adrien doesn't even realize it as he uses the cuff of his sleeve to carefully wipe away the blood from her nose.

“There...that's better. Right?” He says cheerfully when he's done.

She seems a bit speechless, before pointing up at his mouth and saying-

“You're bleeding too.” She tells him, and he watches with something like tenderness as she digs through one of the gift bags and pulls out a gorgeous silk handkerchief. “Here...use this.”

He takes it from her and upon seeing the expertly embroidered black cat surrounded by little stars, he feels something entirely too debilitating seize his heart in a vice like grip and squeeze until he's hurting worse than just his stinging lip.

“You...you made this...for me?”

“Yes.”

“I...thank you so much, Marinette. It...I'll keep it safe.” He tucks it away in his pant pocket, gingerly folding it so that it doesn't wrinkle. He gives a brilliant smile, the dried blood on his lip cracking disgustingly.

His tone gives her pause...as if he can't quite believe that someone would put effort for him...she's not quite sure where this idea comes from. He's an Agreste. There are people with three times her status in society who would trip over themselves to put in effort for him.

She tries not to show how much his appreciation moves her.

“Well yeah...I mean I made one for Felix and for your Father.” She shrugs. “It would be weird if I didn't make one for my boyfriend.”

“Oh…”

She feels her heart sink. He looks like a kicked puppy, crestfallen expression, messy damp hair and all.

She swallows back her acerbic replies and somewhat roughly steps up and uses the sleeve of her coat to wipe away the dried blood from his lip.

“There...now you look presentable.” She says softly, and steps back for a bit, clutching the now empty gift bag to her chest.

Adrien's mind has skittered to the far reaches of comprehensible thought, the signals that were shooting through his neuronal network did not match up with the memories of her terse messages. The clumsy carefulness of sleeve against his lips...the slightly angry replies that she'd given him.

“Why...why did you say you don't need my help?” He sounds sad...so sad.

Marinette wonders why a simple message could have hurt him so. She still here. She's still keeping up her end of the deal.

“I didn't want to succeed in that way. I have to do it through my own efforts.” She fiddles with the edges of the wrinkled red tissue wrap peeking up from the rumpled bag. “I have very little pride left...but it's enough for this at least. Bringing my designs to this dinner would have looked really bad, Adrien.”

“Oh...that's it?” He blinks owlishly, relief making his shoulders sag until he looks like a dropping sunflower. Too bright in this rain.

“That's it….were you worried I was dumping you or something? I said I was still coming.” She looks a bit miffed that he'd doubted her word.

“N-no...well yeah. I'm not good with this? This friend thing?” He says sheepishly, smiling nervously at her.

Marinette feels a page of understanding turn in her thoughts and she laughs.

“Friends...okay...well you're lucky I am.” She tells him blithely, and bends down to pick up the umbrella. She shakes it out a bit, and opens it carefully over the both of them. She looks at him once more and smiles back. “I can show you how to do the friend thing. So...let's get going. I think we've kept Go...your driver waiting too long.”

They head out into the rain together, feeling the budding of something warm and true curling in their hearts.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year and this story is finally getting some emotional depth.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who had read this mess. I really appreciate it.


	6. Not at all according to Keikaku*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *translator’s note: keikaku means plan  
> And Adrien can’t stick to it.
> 
> Heeeey Reyxa <3

 

There are a variety of things that Adrien adores about Marinette. Her vivacity, her earnestness, the way she gathers up every kinetic bit of herself and uses it to propel her forward, regardless of elegance or appearances, she moves forward.

 

“Father...this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, my girlfriend.” The words are sweet and playful on his tongue, and he finds himself feeling warm despite that usually chill of his area of the house. He is not surprised to see Felix’s impassive expression. He is however, slightly chilled by the gleam in his father’s eyes that tells him there’s something deeper at stake here.

 

But Marinette seems to be keeping him warm, a living, breathing person...friend...he can lean on and stay close to.

 

And yet, it takes but one patented Agreste glance from his father to freeze the girl on his arm into a stiff marionette. The clacking of her limbs is almost audible in his mind, her weight is a bit heavier against his shoulder and he finds himself more so keeping her upright than just guiding her into the darkly furnished reception room.

 

The smile she slaps on her face is perfectly placed. Too perfect because Adrien is just beginning to notice the little things that make Marinette herself, and that includes the usual lopsided quirk on the right side of her mouth that happens whenever she smiles real and big.

 

Her eyes are huge and starry and the way her hands cling onto those gift bags makes him wonder if she’ll ever be able to hand them off.

 

As it is, Gabriel Agreste is never one for warm welcomes, and Marinette will be no exception. Adrien doesn’t know why he’d hoped otherwise.

 

He gives her a reassuring squeeze at her waist, and that seems to loosen her up a bit. Her smile becomes a bit more crooked, her words spill out politely, if a bit rushed.

 

“Good evening, M. Agreste.” She turns to smile at Felix, and Adrian can almost hear the grinding of gears as her neck turns. She’s still entirely running on a pre-programmed protocol. “It’s nice to see you again, Felix. Thank you all so much for inviting me.”

 

Gabriel merely nods, pale hand extending from the cream colored sleeve of his blazer, inviting her for a hand shake. This seems to be the cue for her to teeter forward on her heels, extend out her hand with way too much relish, therein giving a nice bit of swing to the gift bags on her arm.

 

There is a distinctly horrifying papery smacking noise that permeates the room as the bags come flying up to hit Gabriel on his beautiful, sculptured nose.

 

The bags fall quickly with a sad  _ wump  _ noise, only to dangle limply from her forearm.

 

It takes all of two seconds before Gabriel brings up his hand to rub at his nose, and Marinette lets out a horrified mantra of apologies.

 

“I didn’t...oh my god...I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Oh dear god, I’m such a-“

 

Gabriel stops her by merely lifting one finger, asking her to wait a moment.

 

Felix watches with a bit of glee, and maybe just a twinge of pity. Marinette watches with her dreams on the verge of cracking into glass shards, in danger of burning in the heat of her shame, and melting into hot tears. Adrien watches with horror and a fierce readiness to defend her. Something that strikes him as uncharacteristically angry, gripping his chest in fiery breathlessness.

 

Much to their surprise, Gabriel merely clears his throat.

 

“Well...no harm, no foul Mademoiselle Marinette. Please make yourself comfortable. Adrien…” He looks him full in the eye, his mouth is stiffer than usual and his eyes sharper. “Give her the full tour...but be careful. There are some things in this house that are irreplaceable. Now if you’ll excuse me a moment, I need to check on something.”

 

He leaves the receiving room, leaving silent chaos in his wake.

 

Adrien is confused and somewhat annoyed on Marinette’s behalf. She,however, seems to have not noticed the little insult tacked on to Gabriel’s welcome. She’s too busy looking down at her little boots, cheeks flushed and quiet thank you’s pouring from her mouth.

 

Adrien presses closer to her in solidarity. Twining his arm around her waist, and she seems to melt into his embrace. He takes the gift bags from her and hands one to Felix, only to return most of his attention to a terribly anxious Marinette.

 

She’s making those same vague tea kettle noises, only quieter.

 

This causes Felix some distaste, but it’s somewhat assuaged by the contents of the gift bag. She’d embroidered a beautifully colorful flowering cactus onto a silk handkerchief. He’s a man of taste, and even he can concede, that there is quality and skill in this.

 

But not even with that surprise can he quite forget the expression on his father’s face as he had left the room. The tiniest of smiles curling up the corners of Gabriel’s mouth, hidden by the dim illumination of the receiving room.

 

Felix looks at Marinette, standing there in all her fumbling pride and wonders if she reminds him of someone long gone.

——-

 

“And then to the left, there is the entrance to the winter garden. To the right of that, begins the path to the summer garden. That one is in season and should you feel like it, we can all take a walk later.” Felix explains with an air of practiced politeness that almost makes him seem nice in her eyes. 

 

Marinette is still oddly silent, only giving the occasional compliment or appropriate praise for the wonders to be found in the Agreste mansion. Adrien’s attempts to lighten her mood with jokes have fallen flat.

 

All that’s left behind is Felix’s unwavering commitment to protocol and hospitality, barring his minor dislike of the girl.

 

Her normally vivid eyes are unfocused, glassy. When they make it to a large gilded painting near the giant foyer, Marinette seems to bloom a bit, rising high in her red dress and curiosity filling up her hollow spaces until she almost looks normal again.

 

The sight of the painting seems to do the very opposite to the Agreste boys accompanying her.

 

“She’s lovely.” Marinette breathes out, stepping back to gain a better perspective. The golden geometric pieces all fit together to shape such a beautiful figure, green (familiar) eyes cresting out over all the gold to look at her warmly.

 

Adrien’s eyes crinkle with a melancholy smile. Felix remains impassive, save for the squaring of his shoulders. It takes her very little time to notice, but again, she calls up what little she read in Gabriel Agreste’s Wikipedia page, and almost wants to apologize.

 

But for what, she doesn’t know. How was she supposed to prepare for a situation like this? How is she supposed to react at this reminder of their mother?

 

Unexpectedly, Adrien laces his fingers through hers, and squeezes her hand. She has the good grace not to appear too startled or flustered, remembering that she’s playing the part of loving girlfriend.

 

“She was. And funny and kind too.” Adrien says softly.

 

As confident as he’s played himself out to be, she thinks that both he and Felix look awfully small in front of this painting. She’s at a loss, feeling even more so like an intruder than she had on the first night she’d met them,

 

“I’m sure she was...you have her smile.” Marinette remarks absently, and while she still may be aching inside from her introduction to Gabriel Agreste, she’s innately an empathetic sort of person. 

 

Felix hums thoughtfully and turns away, coughing awkwardly when he catches Marinette gazing at him with sympathy. He can feel resentment churning in his chest, and he hates it and detests her for bringing it to him.

 

Adrien wipes away at something in his eye, and makes an excuse about dust and allergies.

 

Marinette gives his hand one last squeeze before excusing herself to the nearest bathroom.

—-

 

Marinette’s always been an ugly sort of crier.

 

It’s no different here, as she muffles her sobs into the embroidered hand towel she’d plucked from the rack. She’s sitting on the toilet, seat cover down, bare knees pale against the delicate red of her dress trailing around her.

 

She cries for her inability to make good first impressions.

 

She cries for the embarrassment she’d caused by hitting her hero, Gabriel Agreste, in the face.

 

She cries for the comment he’d made about her potentially destroying precious artifacts in their lovely home.

 

She cries for a future that slowly seems to dwindle in the face of her anxieties, all wrapped around her throat until she can hardly remember what optimism tastes like.

 

She cries for a family that’s lost someone precious.

 

Those are enough reasons to cry in her eyes and while self pity reigns supreme, that last one is another sorrow that needs to leak out in this moment.

 

She’s a giant messy ball of feelings and she wishes Alya were here to lend a gentle hug and to help her detangle her thoughts into proper logic.

 

She isn’t however, and Marinette must keep her composure. She lets her sobs trail off, wiping away at her cheeks with the towel.

 

When she finishes, she’s horrified to see the black marks her running mascara had left all over the white cloth.

 

And then she laughs. She laughs because this seems to be her life now, and it’s a bit humorous how such a small thing fits into the pattern of things lately.

 

She shows away the towel in her purse, with the quick thought of laundering it at home and then returning it to Adrien at a later date.

 

A glance in the stupidly ostentatious mirror hanging over the seashell sink tells her that her makeup is a mess. The lighting in here is much too bright and it washes out her complexion and brings out the imperfections of her contouring.

 

She clicks her tongue in dissatisfaction.

 

She swiftly pulls out her remedies. A splash of cold water from the golden faucet, a brief curling of her lashes, a swift reapplication of lipstick, and a puff of powder later, she feels better.

 

She’s startled by a knock at the door, nearly dropping her powder compact into the sink.

 

“Y-yes?”

 

“Marinette...you okay in there? It’s time for dinner.” Adrien calls through the door. He sounds worried and she chastises herself for her spending too much time away from him. 

 

“Ah...yep! Almost done.” She says, tucking her compact into her purse and smoothing down her dress, rushing to meet him at the door.

 

There’s something in her that’s a bit more soft, a little more tender in regards to him, and she finds that her new found friendship is something she wants to protect. Strange circumstances and all, she wants to know Adrien better. Wants to teach him that friendships can be wonderful and warm.

 

So she greets him with a brilliant grin, and tries not to laugh as he squeaks when she grabs his hand and leads him down the hall to the dining room.

——

 

“So...Adrien tells me that you are attending ESMOD. Impressive.” Gabriel says from across the table. His long, elegant fingers are poised as he cuts into the most buttery, tender sole munière Marinette has ever had the pleasure of enjoying.

 

She startles a bit, quickly chewing on a piece of fish and chasing it down with a sip of the vintage Alsace Riesling that had been served to accompany the main course.

 

“Thank you, Monsieur Agreste.” She shoots a grateful glance to Adrien next to her, who quietly preens in the face of her appreciation. He raises her eyebrows at her, as if to say, “ _ see, told you it would be okay.” _

 

His smugness quickly dissolves into awkwardness as he rubs at his nose. She stares at him confused, but brushes it off in favor of building herself up to confess to Gabriel Agreste just how much she respects him.

 

She’s interrupted by Felix of all people, who’s glaring at her over the rim of his wine glass, gray eyes shining menacingly across the long table.

 

“Did you design the dress you are currently wearing, Marinette?” He inquires, false curiosity chipping away at her pride again.

 

Gabriel actually looks intrigued now, setting down his fork and knife to really look at his guest.

 

Marinette feels strangely like all the power has been taken from her in this instance. That she’s merely a little bug up for scrutiny in the predatory eyes of two hungry cats and one playful one.

 

She ekes out a weak  _ “yes”  _ and looks back down at her plate, cheeks burning in embarrassment.

 

She imagines the stitches in her dress are part of her skin. She imagines threading red string throughout herself, weaving a needle to keep herself from fraying with anxiety.

 

Adrien saves her again. 

 

“She’s very talented! She even designed the ball gown she wore at Felix’s graduation party!” He says with a modicum of pride that is nowhere near false.

 

She’s not sure if she wants to kick him under the table or kiss his lovely face with thanks. She remembers her pride and she remembers her resolve to do things in the proper way. She doesn’t want to look like someone only using Adrien for his connections.

 

Felix already has a negative opinion of her, and she’d like to not give him a legitimate reason to dislike her. Even more important, she wants to present her works in a more organic manner.

 

“I-it’s nothing, Monsieur. Just a simple design, really. I...had fun making it.” There is blatant honesty in her remark, and even Felix finds it difficult to doubt her sincerity when her eyes are so bright and earnest.

 

He looks back down at his plate, chagrined.

 

“Indeed.” Gabriel remarks. “Mademoiselle Marinette, would you mind standing and showing me your dress?”

 

She blinks once. Then twice, and nearly knocks over her chair as she rises up enthusiastically.

 

“Of course!”

 

She stands straight, back taut and arms laced in front of her. She digs her hands into the carmine organza overlay that falls from waist. 

 

Gabriel doesn’t speak, merely circles his finger to indicate that she should turn and show the back of the dress.

 

She does so and feels the unpleasant feeling of three pairs of eyes on the swath of bare skin exposed by the dip of the dress. She’s all too aware of every sensation now. The delicate straps that dig into her shoulders and the thin strip of black velvet that gathers the fabrics at her waist.

 

She runs through a thousand criticisms in her head, regrets and small points of pride standing out like stars against the dark of anxiety.

 

She wouldn’t have worn this dress if she hadn’t been proud of it, she reminds herself.

 

“Exquisite work. You have the hands of a skilled dress-maker, Mademoiselle Marinette.” Gabriel finally pronounces. 

 

She turns to find his expression an approving one, although it’s difficult to tell what exactly he’s feeling with his eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses.

 

Felix looks somewhat disappointed. Adrien’s face is flushed, green eyes huge and starry as if he’d just come to an earth shattering revelation. 

 

She’ll have to ask him about that later. If she can ever come down from the high of success.

 

She dazedly makes her way back to her seat, and the conversation resumes, flirting over this past Spring’s fashion displays and trends. 

 

A couple of times, she catches eyes with Adrien, who rubs at his nose again. She’s given up trying to determine if that means anything and she’s too caught up in this moment to care.

 

She finds herself willingly engaging, occasionally bringing in Adrien or Felix into the conversation as they’d both begun to look a bit bored by the whole affair.

 

“I think the whole high waisted pants trend is going to go on for a while, do you agree, Felix?” Gabriel muses, sipping at his third glass of wine.

 

Felix looks dangerously on the verge of stabbing his slice of chocolate gateau with the dessert knife, but he merely shrugs.

 

“I suppose so…but I wouldn’t have any idea. I’m mostly concerned with the finances from this last spring venture, Father.”

 

“What about you, Adrien?” Marinette asks, if only for the sake of including him in the conversation.

 

Adrien laughs haltingly.

 

“I...I really wouldn’t know? Physics is more so my thing. Not fashion.”

 

Gabriel laughs a little too loud, and both Adrien and Felix seem to flinch at the same time.

 

“Nonsense. Mademoiselle Marinette, did you know my sons used to model for the company?”

 

“I...I didn’t actually.” She turns questioningly to Adrien, who looks immensely embarrassed.

 

Felix seems to perk up at that, vindication in his sharp smile as he speaks.

 

“You should look it up! I think my favorite was the 2014 Fashion Week runway ensemble. Father’s  _ Metamorphosis  _ line.” He snickers.

 

“J-just as a teenager. Really, more commercial shoots than anything. Not much high fashion.” Adrien tries to say. 

 

Gabriel looks amused as he takes another sip of his wine.

 

But it’s too late. Marinette has already pulled out her phone, and has searched up that particular fashion show.

 

She selects the second picture in the results and nearly spits out her wine with her laughter.

 

As it is, she hides it in her napkin.

 

It’s a younger Adrien, tousled hair and gorgeous eyes painted over with shades of glittery purple.

 

He wears a pretty lavender suit, shot through with bold black lines to give it a more structured look. His long legs seem to swallow up the catwalk, but she can’t take it seriously because of the ridiculous large curly antennae that spring from head. Behind him float two huge, ostentatious neon purple butterfly wings, moving in tandem with his arms as he waves them up and down.

 

Felix looks slightly mollified when she finally lets out a guffaw of laughter. Adrien looks mortified and something about Gabriel looks wistful.

 

It’s a nice moment, but it’s swiftly ended with dessert and Gabriel standing up abruptly-

 

“Madamoiselle Marinette, would you care to accompany me on a stroll through the summer gardens? The rain has stopped and it’s sufficiently warm enough for a walk.”

 

The invitation is pleasant enough, but she’s not entirely sure why the environment has suddenly quieted. Felix looks alarmed and Adrien has stopped his complaints, to stand also.

 

“Dad, why don’t we all go together?”

 

Gabriel shakes his head.

 

“I would like to speak with her privately. Just for a few minutes. You don’t mind, do you?” 

 

Adrien can’t quite come up with a way to rescue her this time and she’s not sure why this feels slightly ominous. It’s simply a walk? With her longtime hero. This should be a pleasure, not something to fear.

 

Marinette gathers up the red thread within herself, and stitches herself tighter until she’s able to walk on her heels smoothly towards Gabriel’s end of the table. She borrows the imperious gaze she’d used on Adrien back when he’d first questioned her right to be in this very same house.

 

She makes herself believe she belongs here.

 

“It would be a pleasure, Monsieur.”

 

She catches Adrien’s eyes as she and Gabriel head towards the gardens. He looks frightened but he rubs at his nose again, and it still doesn’t make sense to her.

 

She gives him a stealthy thumbs up. He struggles not to sigh dramatically into his hands.

—-

 

She’s grateful that Gabriel had remembered to hand her her coat. The rain has stopped, but the fresh chill of summer rain still lingers pleasantly.

 

The garden is illuminated well, with strings of lights running parallel to the pathway. Fountains burble in every corner and crickets sing.

 

She can hear the drip drop of water running down verdant Foliage. She can smell the earthy scent of petrichor, pleasant and comforting as her boots step on the gravel path.

 

They walk side by side for a moment, before Gabriel stops suddenly in front of a massive peony bush, a thousand pink petals heavy with drops.

 

He looks at the bush with something like fondness.

 

“Mademoiselle Marinette…”

 

“Please...Monsieur...Marinette would be okay.” She interrupts. Then quickly she feels her mortification  return at seeming so rude. She quietly apologizes, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

 

“Marinette...I care for my sons. I want their happiness.”

 

She blinks up at him, unsure of where this conversation is going.

 

“I don’t doubt that, Monsieur.”

 

He unfolds his arms to reach for one of the peony’s and plucks away a loose, wilting petal.

 

“You’ll understand, then, if I say that I have some concerns with you being a fairly new presence in their lives.”

 

“Of course.”

 

His tone up until now had been nothing but polite. Pleasant even. But there’s an underlying hardness to it that prepares her for an interrogation.

 

“Then tell me, Marinette,” He says her name with a certain amount of distaste and she can entirely see Felix’s resemblance to him. The same sneer and the same blind protectiveness engendered by love for family. “Tell me why I must allow someone with your egregious  _ habit  _ to date Adrien?”

 

Confusion lances through her. She wonders with a pang of shame if he hasn’t forgiven her for hitting him with the gift bag earlier. Worse yet, had he somehow found out about her sending Felix to the hospital by accident? Or that she’s dented one of the Agreste luxury cars with her bargain bike? 

 

She does what she does best when things aren’t going to plan. She lies. She acts like she has every reason to be affronted, raises her voice despite her fear and feeds a red hot anger in her chest.

 

“Monsieur...I have no idea what you’re accusing me of.” 

 

He scoffs.

 

“You couldn’t even hide it well. Look at you, white powder all over your nose. Red rimmed eyes, quick, stumbling speech.”

 

Realization dawns in her thoughts and her mind quickly darts to the section of “things Marinette will certainly NOT regret later” as she raises her voice in defiance.

 

“How dare you?!” She stamps her foot with anger, sending wet gravel to splash against his signature red pants. “How dare you accuse me of something like that without any evidence?”

 

A thing to note about Gabriel Agreste: the number of people who have him defied in his life has a negative correlation with his success in the fashion world. It is therefore, a ballsy and potentially career killing move to mouth off to him.

 

Marinette has few sips of Riesling coursing through her. She definitely has a few broken bits of pride poking at her. So it’s not altogether strange that ballsy and potentially career-killing mouthing off is in the cards for her tonight.

 

After all, Marinette’s foot and her mouth are the best of friends by now.

 

So she stamps her little foot once more and does what she does best. She rambles.

 

“The powder on my nose was cosmetic! My eyes were red because I’d built you up so much in my mind...for years I’d respected you, so the thought of accidentally hitting you and even speaking to you after that gave me so much anxiety and emotion, of course I’d stumble over my words. I even cried a little in your bathroom. So what?!” She Says, and she isn’t surprised to find that her feelings have melted again and she can hear the  _ drip drop  _ of her tears echoing the residual rain drops.

 

Her words fade into her quiet sniffles, and she wipes away her tears angrily. She knows there’s no chance of ever working for or with Gabriel Agreste. She may just have to start her fashion career all over again...in another country. 

 

Oh god how was she going to break that news to Alya? Or her parents?

 

“I should go.” She says, hugging herself as she stares down at her dirtied boots and his messy pants.

 

She’s ready to turn on her heel, ready to leave all of this behind. Apologize to Adrien...perhaps suggest that they can still be pen pals...in secret, so his father doesn’t think he’s dating a cocaine addict or something equally stupid.

 

Despite her bitterness, a wry smile twists her mouth.

 

“Goo-“

 

“I sincerely apologize.” Gabriel says. He’s not quite looking at her, but rather glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “ I came to an entirely terrible conclusion and misjudged you.”

 

He looks composed. But if she hadn’t known any better, she’d say he looked remorseful and guilty.

 

(And the fact of the matter is that he is. Immensely so.)

 

She’s still aching. She’s still angry, so why is she still here? She wonders.

 

“Is there anything I can do to make amends?” He asks.

 

She opens her mouth to reject this offer, and all that comes out is-

 

“Why?”

 

He sighs. Somehow in front that beautiful huge peony bush, the person she’d looked up to for so long, looks so small. Human.

 

The Agrestes...she’d been building all of them up...and she’s beginning to realize that they’re just...people. People dealing with a loss that’s terrible and who have strange, strained ties between them. 

 

She’s not here to fix them. She can’t. But she’d be a damn terrible liar if she said she didn’t care at all. If only because Adrien was entangled in all of this and he’d held her hand and asked her to show him how to be a friend.

 

And if there’s anything that Marinette always takes into account with her plans, its that her friends cannot be collateral damage in them.

 

Gabriel’s answer is even more surprising. 

 

“I do not know if you’ve noticed, but...our family isn’t quite normal. There’s so many things..that we don’t share anymore. I’ve only had tonight to witness your interactions with Adrien, but I...believe...you make him happy, in some capacity.”

 

She narrows her eyes up at him.

 

“Happy? What does that matter in the face of my cocaine addiction?”

 

He shoots her an icy glare but it melts in the face of her rightful indignation.

 

“I was wrong. I...I haven’t been with the both of them in so long, and I was scared...that perhaps I’d failed them. That an outsider had slipped into our home to cause potential harm to them and I hadn’t stopped it.”

 

Her brows knit in confusion.

 

“You make it sound like it happens often.”

 

Gabriel folds his hands behind his back and turns to the peony bush.

 

“Often enough...Felix has been burned before...I’d rather Adrien not experience that same disappointment.”

 

“What disappointment?”

 

“The disappointment that comes with loving someone who only wants you for what you have and what you can offer them.”

 

Marinette feels a pang of guilt echo in her chest, but it’s assuaged by the knowledge that this arrangement is done with mutual consent. Adrien has his hazy reasons, and while she may questions them, he’s been nothing but kind and trustworthy throughout this whole thing so far.

 

“I can’t promise...that I won’t hurt him. He’s an adult. I’m an adult. Relationships don’t always work out the way you want, Monsieur.” She pauses, and moves to stand beside him, hands folded behind her back as well, gazing at the peonies. “But I can promise that I care about him. And that I’ll do my best to make him happy for as long as he is with me.”

 

She smiles fondly at the memory of Adrien. Adrien buying her Plague, Adrien forgiving her for every god forsaken mishap. Adrien laughing and flirting with cheesy pick up lines and Adrien vulnerable underneath a rusty old umbrella.

 

She intends to keep to that promise, if only just to keep Adrien happy.

 

Gabriel notices the expression on her face and is somewhat relieved that it seems like she’ll stay.

 

They’re interrupted by the sound of quick footsteps coming down the pathway.

 

Marinette is intensely relieved and genuinely pleased to see Adrien come around the corner.

 

He’s frazzled. Beautiful hair all adrift in the tepid breeze, eyes wide and reflecting the fairy lights like stars. His sweater is untucked from his waistband, and she wants to laugh because he looks so concerned.

 

“Marinette...Dad? Is everything okay?”

 

She cheerfully laughs and extends out a hand for him to hold onto as he steps over a puddle.

 

“You didn’t miss much.”

 

His relief is sweet, and he curls his hand into hers with such trust, she almost wants to cry again.

 

“I’m glad.” He says to her, and all three continue the walk down the path.

——

 

They stroll for a bit longer, before they come across a very familiar sight for Marinette. There, underneath a quaint white gazebo, rests a red old fashioned bicycle.

 

“My bargain bike!” She exclaims, and rushes forward to admire the handiwork that had been done to it. The paint was no longer chipped and somehow, someone had managed to reattach the back wheel and changed the chain. “This is…this is amazing? I thought you guys would have thrown it out by now?”

 

Adrien chuckles. 

 

“Felix wanted to, but I thought it was only right to fix it for you instead. Considering it was our car that damaged it in the first place.”

 

“Our car?” Gabriel asks, and Marinette cringes at the memory. Technically it had been entirely her fault and the fault of her crappy brakes that had resulted in that disaster.

 

Adrien quickly babbles something about not seeing her at an intersection and clipping her bike.

 

She’s almost grateful, but then she remembers that the sleeve of her favorite pea coat is still torn from when Adrien had run over with his motorcycle. Her mind tallies that up as being even, and she manages not to look frantic as she laughs. “You didn’t have to fix it! It was a cheap bike from the flea market. It was sweet of you though.”

 

“I beg to differ. This bike is a treasure! A 1952 Colomb-Clément, red just like the one that won the Tour de France that year.” Gabriel marvels, running his hands over the sturdy frame and the new coat of paint.

 

Marinette nearly chokes.

 

“Uh What?!”

 

Gabriel looks far more excited than he has the entire night, and his face is eager as he grips the curving handlebars.

 

“Do you mind if I try it?”

 

Marinette is at a loss, telling him by all means to go ahead. Adrien is still slightly reeling from his father’s sudden enthusiasm for an old bike.

 

“Dad...you sure that’s…”

 

“Nonsense, Adrien. I used to ride competitively back in lycée.

 

“Wait...I haven’t finish-“

 

But before Adrien can continue, Gabriel has already mounted the bike and has pedaled off the pathway, teetering dangerously on the wet gravel.

 

What follows is, in Marinette’s view, a nicely timed fuck up that is in no way her fault.

 

See, Adrien is a clever physicist. An intelligent and theoretically capable young man who is intensely good at math and equations.

 

He also a crappy tinkerer. He likes hands on projects, but will somehow, inevitably need professional advice at one point or another. 

 

He had not gotten professional help in fixing that bike as of yet, still determined to do something with his own two hands for Marinette.

 

As sweet as that is, it also means the bolts and screws hadn’t all been tightened as they should have.

 

It also means that the chain slipping, the breaks not working and Gabriel Agreste’s subsequent dive into the lovely koi pond hadn’t been all that preventable.

 

His yell is a quickly drowned thing that send Adrien and Marinette running to his aid. Certainly a night to remember for all of them.

—-

 

“You actually brought flowers this time. Not scared of invoking an allergic reaction?” Adrien teases her.

 

She frowns and swats away at his hand as he playfully reaches to tug one of her braids.

 

“He kept looking at the peony bush. I’m pretty sure he’s not allergic and that he likes peonies. Ergo, I’ve brought purple peonies to wish him well.” She says defensively, hugging the vase closer to herself.

 

Adrien’s teasing grin melts into one of fond amusement. 

 

“I think he’ll love them.”

 

“I think so too. They’re the exact same shade of purple as your butterfly wings from the  _ Metamorphoses  _ line.” She giggles.

 

He pouts adorably, but she can tell there’s something immensely pleased about his overall demeanor.

 

“She’s so cruel, isn’t she Plague?” He asks the cat napping near his slippered feet, black fur littering the white carpet.

 

Plague’s tail twitches but he doesn’t move.

 

“You’re in a surprisingly good mood considering your dad just broke a leg.” Marinette tells him and then asks in concern. “Did they say how long he’ll have to wear the cast for?”

 

“Six weeks or so.” Adrien grins.

 

“And that’s good because….?”

 

“He gets to stay home for a little bit longer.” 

 

She looks incredulous, but the fact that Adrien has managed to find the bright side in bodily injury makes her break into hearty laughter.

 

She sets down the vase on the side table, giddiness filling up at the silly outcomes of these past two days. There’s madness here with the Agreste’s but she can’t say she has any regrets as of yet.

 

Marinette is feeling particularly affectionate, and so much to his surprise, she throws her arms around his neck, and buries her head into his shoulder.

 

The thing with Marinette is that she’s a tactile person by nature. Free with her physical affection, bestowing it to all her friends with alacrity.

 

The thing with Adrien is that he hasn’t always been a giftee of much tactile affection. He enjoys wholeheartedly, but can’t ask for it without shame lacing his request.

 

But he finds his heart leaping into his throat, and his pulse skittering just below his skin as she presses warm

And welcoming against him. Her soft cheek is pressed against his shoulder, and her wiry arms are loose around his neck.

 

He gulps hard, but somehow manages to wrap his arms around her.

 

“Thank you.” He whispers quietly, ignoring the burning in his eyes.

 

He hides the silent realization that his racing heart and dreams of the future mean that not all is going according to their agreed upon plan.

 

Not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ESMOD:école supérieure des arts et techniques de la mode, or ESMOD, is a French private school of fashion. It was founded in Paris in 1841 
> 
> GOOOD This chapter was a lot harder to write than the others? Probably because we’re getting some semblance of plot. Also...this was vaguely a bit more crackish than the others. It’s an AU...for fun...mostly. Please suspend your disbelief and let me have my hidden dork Gabriel Agreste in this au

**Author's Note:**

> Yep. Yep basically just a whole bunch of really silly mishaps with a loose plot. Really more fluff than anything.


End file.
